How To Have An Affair
by AndItsOuttaHere
Summary: According to Graham Yost, when one of the producers saw the last R&W scene he said "Yeah, I still think they're going to end up together at least one more time and then break up and do it again." And I thought...what if they did?
1. Chapter 1

How to Have an Affair

These are the rules. Unwritten. Unspoken. But followed.

 **They don't talk about Richard**. This rule is never broken. Whenever they're together _that_ way, Richard doesn't exist. Nor does any woman Raylan might be seeing, not that Winona ever knows about any of them anyway. She imagines there are other women, but he's never introduced anyone to Willa, so whoever they might be, they aren't very important.

 **They don't plan ahead**. They never talk about next time. But they both know there _will_ be a next time.

 **They don't say** ** _I love you_** **.** It's all been said and done. There's no need for the words.

 **They don't talk about Willa.** This rule gets broken more than the others, but they try to keep her out of it. There was _them_ long before there was her.

o-o-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-o-o

It all starts when Raylan calls in the middle of the night.

"Willa's sick." He sounds worried and Raylan hardly ever worries, so she's instantly awake.

"What's her temp?" she asks, already pulling on jeans under the old UK t-shirt she sometimes sleeps in.

"I can't find the thermometer," he says. "But she's burnin' up."

"Get a wash cloth cold and put it on her head," she says. "I'll be right over."

She slips her feet into flip-flops and gathers supplies from the bathroom; the ear thermometer, children's Tylenol, Pedialyte. She grabs a clean pair of pajamas from Willa's room – if the fever breaks she'll sweat through the ones she packed. She lays a hand on Richard's shoulder.

"Willa's sick. I'm running over to Raylan's."

"Mmm hmmm," he murmurs, not quite waking up. "Youwantmetocometoo?" The words jumble together.

"No need. Hopefully I'll be back soon." And she's down the stairs, grabbing her keys from the hook by the door.

It's five minutes to Raylan's condo, if that. To her surprise, six months ago he'd jumped at the chance to leave his downtown apartment and get in on the new development, even though he hates the suburbs and his drive to work is longer. Now he lives less than two miles from Winona's house. Sometimes she walks Willa over to drop her off on Raylan's days. She's always lonely on the walk back, even if Richard is waiting for her.

Now she turns into the complex and weaves her way around to Raylan's townhouse. It's towards the back of the development, and he has a nice view of the pool and the salt marsh beyond from his patio. She can't see any of that now, of course, but the lights are on and the garage door is up, so she lets herself in and heads back to her daughter's bedroom.

The rest of Raylan's place might be sparse, but his little girl's room is a bright splash of color. Father and daughter painted it together and it took Winona a week to get all of the paint flecks out of Willa's hair. It's yellow, Willa's second favorite color, and just like her room at home, one wall is chalkboard paint so she can draw all over it, mostly dogs and horses.

The pink flowered quilt is thrown back and Raylan is sitting on the bed, Willa half on his lap, a washcloth on her forehead.

"Mama," her voice is a whine. "I don't feel good. My head hurts."

"I know punkin'." Winona lifts the cloth and lays a hand on Willa's forehead. She raises an eyebrow at Raylan. The child _is_ burning up.

"How long has she been like this?" She knows she sounds irritated. She pulls out the thermometer, lifts Willa's curls aside, and fits it in her ear.

"I was doin' paperwork. She woke up and called for me 'bout an hour ago," Raylan says. "She was fine when she went to bed."

The thermometer beeps. "102.6," she reads.

"Is that bad?" He's talking over the top of Willa's head, whispering so their daughter won't hear.

Winona mouths the word _'No."_ and pours some of the Tylenol into the plastic cup. "Here, baby."

Willa swallows the medicine without complaint, an indication of how bad she really feels.

"Daddy and I will be right back," Winona says.

"No mama," Willa reaches for her mother as Raylan eases her off his lap.

"Here," he says. "Hold onto Mr. Bear and we'll be back in a minute."

Willa pouts, but holds out her arms for the well-loved stuffed animal.

"Should we go to the ER?" Raylan asks in the hallway. He keeps his voice low.

"No," Winona says. "Not unless the Tylenol doesn't bring it down."

"When will we know?"

She sighs. "In an hour or so, I'd think. You know Raylan, I haven't done this parenting thing before either."

"Yeah, that's right," he says. "Sorry."

She lays a hand on his arm. "It's not your fault. Kids get sick." His eyes meet hers, relieved, and she feels a twinge of guilt realizing he expected her to blame him.

"Mama! Daddy!" Willa cries. "It's been a minute."

Two hours later, the fever isn't gone, but it's down, and after six or seven mind-numbing repeated readings of _Click Clack Moo,_ Willa is finally asleep.

Winona eases off the bed carefully, pulling the sheet up and tucking Mr. Bear in beside her baby girl.

"You want a beer?" Raylan asks as they tiptoe out of the bedroom.

It's three in the morning, but she nods and follows him to the kitchen. He gets two Heinekens out of the fridge and slides open the patio door. Twisting off the caps, he hands her one. He hooks a thumb at the window. "We'll be able to hear her if she wakes up."

It's a cool night, somewhere in the sixties; a relief after a string of ninety degree days with a hundred percent humidity. The patio is small, but he's wedged a porch swing in one corner beside the potted palm she and Willa picked out as a housewarming gift.

Willa's pink bathing suit hangs over the privacy fence. "She went swimming?"

"Yeah," he says. "Like I told you, she was bouncin' around as usual." He looks toward the window again, listening.

"She'll be fine, Raylan. There's probably something going around at preschool."

He nods and takes a long pull on his beer. "Nice shirt," he says, grinning.

She looks down and laughs. "It's old. Probably yours."

"Mighta been." He lets out a breath. "Looks better on you," He says, almost too quiet for her to hear.

A flush of heat spreads through her and she raises the bottle to her lips.

She loves Richard, really she does. He's nothing like poor, dead Gary, although she'd loved him, too, or thought she did. Looking back, she's not so sure. But Richard's a good man, calm and steady. He loves her, and he loves Willa. He even _says_ he likes Raylan and maybe he does. He certainly bends over backwards to be sure Willa's daddy always feels welcome in their home.

So it's shitty that she knows - as well as she knows her own face in the mirror – that she's never going to love Richard - or anyone - the way she loves the man standing here. They couldn't make it work – God knows they'd tried – but it's not like they can walk away and never see each other. Willa took care of that option forever. And seeing Raylan so often makes her heart ache.

Maybe that's why she says it, or maybe it's the way the moon comes out of the clouds at just that moment, lighting up the patio, catching the look of longing in his dark eyes. She wonders if it matches her own.

"I miss you sometimes."

At first, she wonders if he's heard her. Then he sets his beer down and in two long strides he takes her face is in his hands and he's kissing her, his mouth soft on hers, his tongue parting her lips.

"Raylan," she murmurs. But what starts as a protest becomes a plea as he walks her backwards, through the open door and back into the kitchen. He lifts her easily onto the counter, sliding his hands up her back inside the shirt, kissing her the whole time. He pushes the shirt up, cupping a breast and teasing it with his tongue.

"Oh, God."

She's lost. She locks her legs around him and he moves again, carrying her to the couch. He drops her on the cushions and she pulls the shirt over her head, tossing it aside. She squirms out of her jeans and opens her arms to him.

He sheds his own clothes and eases himself down slowly, kissing his way down her body. She lifts her hips and he gives her that familiar grin before lowering his mouth, making her gasp. She comes almost instantly and he slides up and into her while she's still trembling, barely thrusting twice before shuddering with his own climax.

-o-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-o-

"This can't happen again." He blows out a breath and she rolls over onto her back, pulling the sheet tight over her breasts.

He leans on one elbow, looking down at her. With a finger, he brushes a strand of hair from her eyes.

"I know, Raylan."

But Winona is nothing if not practical and since this is the fourth time in as many months that the two of them ' _accidently_ ' fell into bed - or whatever piece of furniture might be available - she realizes this isn't going to stop unless one of them stops it and it seems neither of them can quite talk themselves into doing that.

So she rolls her eyes and her lips twitch into the slightest of smiles. "But it probably will."

"Seems more'n likely."

He kisses her and slides out of the bed, picking up his discarded jeans and boxers and dressing quickly.

"Heidi'll be bringin' Willa back any minute." He tugs back the shade and looks out, but there's no sign of his neighbor's mini van.

He scoops the lacy black bra off the floor and tosses it to her, watching as she puts it on and wriggles into matching panties.

"Stop staring," She blushes and looks in the mirror, running her fingers through her hair before reaching for the dress hanging on the doorknob.

"Zip me up?" She turns, showing him her back and he steps forward, sliding the zipper up slowly, one hand resting lightly on her hip.

"Thanks." She slips on her heels and they walk down the hall taking the stairs out of the loft into the kitchen.

He takes a beer from the fridge and leans against the counter, popping the cap and taking a long pull. "You wanna do dinner tonight? You, me and Willa?"

He knows Richard is in Jacksonville at his parents until tomorrow, because his daughter told him. Winona never breaks _that_ rule.

She digs in her purse for a lipstick and swipes it across her mouth. "She'd like that." She puts the cap back on and drops the tube back into her purse. "Tell me something," she says, looking up at him. "Did you arrange for this little play date so we'd be alone?" She crosses her arms over her chest and waits.

"I did not," he says. ""Willa likes playin' with Neveah."

"What kind of name is that?" Winona says, helping herself to a sip of his beer.

Raylan rolls his eyes. "It's 'heaven' backwards."

"Oh." Winona's nose wrinkles. "So is her mother some kind of new ager?"

"Nah. Hell, I don't know," he says. "She seems nice."

"Seems nice?" Winona chuckles. "If you let our daughter go somewhere with her, I know damn well you ran her name and she came out squeaky clean." She sips his beer again. "It's one of the things I love about you." _It also annoys the hell out of me,_ she thinks _. If we were together, this would turn into a fight about you being so damn suspicious all the time._

"Like I love you drinkin' my beer." He opens the fridge and grabs another one.

"So, this _arranged_ play date," her eyes twinkle. "Where did they go?"

"Not arranged." He insists. "Heidi got some free passes to that Sky Zone trampoline place so she invited her." He shrugs. "It was all very spontaneous."

"And there was no time to call me and tell me?" She smirks. "I could've gone shopping, or gotten my nails done."

"Wouldja rather?"

"I really ought to say yes."

"But ya can't, can ya?" He grins back at her, but there's something darker, questioning in his eyes, and she leans in, giving him a soft kiss just as they hear the front door open.

"Mama!" Willa squeals, flying into the kitchen and throwing her arms around Winona as if she hadn't seen her just last night. "I jumped so high! Higher than Neveah." She looks up at her daddy. "She was scared, but I wasn't."

"That's my girl."

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

"You need to help me with this, Daddy," Willa says. She pulls a folder and a pencil out of her pink-flowered backpack and hops up next to him on the couch. Winona braided her hair today and he tugs on one gently as he settles an arm around her.

"Whaddya need help with?"

"We hafta do a family tree." She lays the paper on his lap. "See, Mama already helped me with this part."

He looks at the sheet. There's a large tree filling the page, and Willa has colored it neatly, staying in all the lines. Her name is printed carefully at the top; _Willa Grace Givens_. His name and Winona's are printed below. Lines run out from each of the branches and the lines under Winona's name are all filled in, while his are empty. Winona could have helped with this, too, she knows all the basic details, but she's left it to him.

Willa points. "There's Mama and you and MeMaw and Grandpa. And over here is Aunt Gayle and Uncle Dan. But I gotta do your side, too." She takes the paper back and her tongue slides out from between her teeth as she grips the pencil. "What's your daddy's name?"

Raylan takes a sip of beer. "Arlo."

Willa prints _Arlo Givens_ on one of the lines under Raylan's name. "That's a funny name," she giggles. "Was he funny?"

"Nope."

Her eyes flick up to his. "Mama said he died."

"Yes, he did. Before you were born." He takes another longer pull from the bottle.

"Do you miss him?"

He considers lying to her, telling her a story about a happy family – or at least a less miserable one – but he knows that eventually the truth will out. He wonders if this is why Winona left this to him – letting him decide how he wants to present it. The woman knows him. He swallows the unexpected lump in his throat.

"He wasn't a nice man," he says. "I'm kinda glad you'll never meet him."

"Was he a bully? Miss Carlos says we shouldn't be bullies and it's okay to tell if a bully is bothering you."

"He _was_ kinda a bully," Raylan says. "And Miss Carlos is right, you don't ever want to be a bully."

"I'm nice," Willa says. "What was your mama's name?"

"Frances," Raylan says. "And she had a sister, my Aunt Helen."

"Were they nice?"

"They were," he finishes his beer and considers getting another, but he tries to keep it to one or two on the nights he has Willa. "My mama liked to garden, especially tomatoes. And Aunt Helen made the best Jam Cake. I can still taste it."

"I like tomatoes. What's Jam Cake?" Willa's nose wrinkles just like her mother's and it makes him smile. It's easy to see Winona in their daughter, harder to see himself, although Winona insists he's there.

"It's hard to describe," he tells her. "I probably have her recipe somewhere." It's likely in one of the boxes he's moved – unopened - from Kentucky, to the rented house he shared with Winona, to the apartment downtown, and now here.

"I like strawberry jam," Willa says. "Did you have any brothers or sisters?"

"Nope." He tugs a braid again. "There was just me. Like you."

Willa smiles. "Mama says Tómas is like a brother, but he doesn't live with us. He lives with his gramma and grandpa in Pill-a-del-pia."

"Phila-delphia...it sounds like an 'F'," Raylan corrects. "He's your step-brother. There a place on here for that?"

Raylan remembers Tómas from last summer, a quiet, dark-haired boy around twelve, with startling blue eyes and a chip on his shoulder a mile high.

"Miss Carlos says we can draw on extra lines if we want, but I don't want to."

He's surprised. "Not even for Richard?"

"He yelled at me."

Part of Raylan wants to immediately join in on the Richard bashing, but he knows Winona's husband to be an even-tempered sort with real affection for Willa. The guy is no Gary - Raylan even likes him – which makes what _he's_ doing with Winona a constant buzz on his conscience. The least he can do is defend him here.

"About what?"

Willa shrugs.

"Willa..."

She sighs, again bringing her mother to mind.

"Why did he yell at you?" Raylan persists.

"I was playing and I hadta go to the bathroom so I ran in the house real fast and left my bike in the driveway." Her lower lip trembles. "Richard almost hit it with his car and he was _really_ mad."

"I'da been mad, too." He tips her chin to look up at him. "You need to do what your mama and Richard say, and I bet they tell you to put your bike away, right?"

Another shrug. "Yeah."

"And if he'd hit your bike, then you wouldn't have one and that'd make you sad."

"Mama would get me a new one," Willa says with confidence. "Maybe a pink one."

He laughs. He can't help it. "So you want a pink bike?"

Willa nods. "A big girl one. With hand brakes. Like the one Neveah has."

"But you aren't taking care of the one you have." He disengages himself and gets up from the couch, heading to the fridge for that second beer. Willa's voice follows him.

"I'd take care of a pink one."


	2. Chapter 2

He watches her dress in the dim light filtering through the window shade. She pulls on her running shorts and sports bra, sitting on the edge of his bed to tie her shoes. Rolling over, he wraps an arm around her bare waist, pulling her close and burying his face in her hair, inhaling the mixed scent of shampoo and sweat.

"I've gotta go," she says, but she doesn't pull away. She turns her head, brushes the hair from his face with long fingers and kisses the stubble along his jaw. Reaching his mouth she tugs gently at his bottom lip with her teeth. He responds, kissing her hungrily and her eyes lock on his as she pulls away, reluctantly.

"No victory laps today. I've _really_ got to go." She sits up and slides off the bed, pulling her hair up into a ponytail and securing it with a rubber band from around her wrist. "I have a deposition at 3:30. Can you pick Willa up after Brownies? 4:00?"

"I can and I will," he says. She smiles and leans in for one more kiss. He reaches out and smacks her on the ass as she turns for the door.

"Jerk!" She calls over her shoulder.

He swings out of bed and pulls aside the shade, watching her exit the garage and break into a run, heading out of the complex and back toward her house.

The running is new, taken up in what she says is a last ditch effort to lose the final five stubborn pounds of baby weight. Since Willa is six, Raylan isn't buying her excuse; but then, he isn't the one who needs to.

She picks up her pace as she turns out of Raylan's complex, glancing at the time on her phone. _Shit._ She's later than she thought. She hopes Richard got Willa up. Winona was late getting her to preschool one day last week on a morning just like this. Everyone was lovely and sympathetic, but she had a feeling the office staff could turn judgmental if it became a habit _._

"Long run," Richard says when she comes in from the garage. It's not a question or accusation, just a comment, but the guilt instantly assaults her. She searches her brain for an excuse.

"I ran into Malia – you know – up the street?" She's pretty sure he has no idea who this neighbor is. Opening the fridge, she grabs bottled water. "Her son Taj is in Willa's class?"

He shrugs and she's relieved.

"She's impossible to get away from." She chugs the water. "She tried to get me to commit to the face-painting booth at fun night next month."

True, Malia had tried to rope Winona into volunteering for the fundraiser, but that was the other day when she picked Willa up from preschool.

"And?" he says, pouring coffee into a travel mug.

"I told her I'd think about it. Is Willa up?" _Please say she's up._

"Up but not dressed yet." He leans in and kisses her. "I gotta go. We're behind on the framing and they're supposed to put the windows in on Monday. Bruce is having a fit. We're really going to be pushing it."

She walks to the stairs and yells up to her daughter. "Get dressed, Punkin' I'll be up in a minute to do your hair."

Back in the kitchen she pours herself a cup of coffee. ""So you're working all weekend?"

"Tonight and Saturday. Sorry, Babe." He grabs a breakfast bar from the box on the counter. "I know Willa's with Raylan this weekend."

"That's okay," she says. "I've got some running around to do, anyway." She's already thinking about how to get some time with Raylan, and that, combined with the heat and the cold water churning in her stomach makes her half sick.

"See you tonight," Richard says. "We need to talk about Tómas' visit. Love you."

"Love you," she says. _I do, really. I just love Raylan, too. Dammit._

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

Willa pulls the hood of her sweatshirt up and pushes off from the desk, making the chair spin in a circle, kicking her feet. She's wearing hot pink Chuck Taylors with her leggings and the glittery stars sparkle under the harsh lights of the Marshal's office.

"I'm bo-red. Are you done yet?"

"I thought I told you to stop that," Raylan says. _About four times already._ He glances at his notes and back to the computer screen, typing in the information he got from the witnesses as fast as he can. Winona dropped Willa off an hour ago, and he'd promised her pizza, but he really needs to get this report filed and his daughter's constant interruptions have turned a fifteen-minute task into a marathon.

"Daddy," Willa whines. "Can I play a game on your phone?"

"No."

Reaching down, Willa grabs the lever, raising and lowering the chair seat.

"Stop that," Raylan snaps.

"I'm hungry. Can I get a candy bar from the snack machine?"

"No. We're gonna go get pizza soon as I get done." _Which might be a lot faster if you leave me alone for five minutes,_ he adds in his head.

She sighs and twirls the chair again, watching him all the while.

"Oh, alright, here." Raylan hands her the phone. "Play a game. But not the zombie one."

Looking up from his own pile of paperwork, Muñoz chuckles.

"What?"

"You'd better watch out. That one has you wrapped around her little finger." He drops his head back down. "I hope I'm still kickin' when she's a teenager. That I gotta see."

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

Willa takes a bite of pizza, letting the cheese string out of her mouth as she drops the slice back onto her plate. Raylan scowls, but she grins at him. "I l-ooo-ve pizza," she says. "Thank you, Daddy." She smiles and his annoyance melts away.

"You're welcome. Don't talk with your mouth full."

"Sorry." She grins again.

"I thought we decided pizza once a week was enough."

"Mama!" Willa jumps up, knocking against the table and almost spilling her pop and Raylan's beer.

"And pop? Really Raylan?" Winona says, reaching out to catch the plastic cup just in time. She bumps her hip into Willa and slides into the booth beside her. "She won't sleep at all tonight."

"7up," he says. "No caffeine. What're you doin' here anyway?" Dimetrios is close to both their places, but Winona doesn't allow herself – or her daughter - much in the way of fast food.

"Richard's late on a job, so I ordered take-out." Their eyes meet but hers flick away.

Willa grabs her slice of pizza again, stuffing way too much into her mouth.

"Willa Grace!" Winona chides. "Don't eat like a pig."

Her cheeks bulge as she chews and she makes a snorting noise.

Raylan and Winona both bust out laughing, then try to stifle it. Willa laughs too, choking a little.

"See," Raylan says pointing a finger at her. "Listen to your mama. Take smaller bites, please."

"Okay, Daddy." She sucks on her straw, slurping the 7up. Raylan opens his mouth to correct her, and then shakes his head, grinning.

"It's been like this since you dropped her off."

Winona nods in sympathy. "Some days I feel like all I say is 'no', 'don't do that', and 'please stop'."

"I feel your pain," Raylan says. Their eyes meet again, and hold. Winona's foot bumps his under the table, and he doesn't retreat.

"Can Mama come tuck me in?" Willa says. She takes another, smaller bite of pizza and looks from one parent to the other. "Please?"

Winona slips an arm around her. "Daddy will tuck you in tonight, Punkin'."

Willa pouts. "Why can't you both tuck me in?"

Winona dips her head, planting a kiss on her daughter's temple. "I suppose I could follow you back and help get you ready for bed, if it's okay with Daddy."

"Fine by me." Raylan says, signaling for the check.

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

"I didn't know if you'd still be here," Raylan says when he comes back into the living room.

Winona looks up from the corner of the couch and puts her phone down. "Is she asleep?"

"Yep. After Click Clack Moo again, and a story about Helen and a pig."

Winona raises an eyebrow.

"She's been askin' about her and my mama since we did that family tree." He sits beside her. "Thank God she's not askin' about Arlo." He considers the events of the evening and voices his worry.

"She's not a brat, is she?"

"No, she's not a brat." Winona assures him. "She's willful and a little bit spoiled, but overall she's a really great kid." She reaches over and brushes the hair back from his face. "She just had a bad day. We all have those."

"She comes by the willful naturally, dontcha think?"

Winona tucks one leg under her. Her skirt rides up and she makes no attempt to hide the silky expanse of thigh from his view. "We can both be stubborn, you and I."

"Ye-ah," he agrees.

She glances at the door. "I should go."

"Ye-ah," he says again.

"But I don't want to." She pushes up, kicking her shoes off and hiking her skirt up even more to swing one leg over and straddle him.

"Winona..." but his protest is lost in her kiss.

She breaks for air and arches back to look at him. "I'll go if you want me to."

"It's a little late for that, don't you think?" He pulls her into another, deeper kiss.

Tugging the skirt higher, he strokes her through silky panties. She moves against his hand, breath quickening and he hooks his thumbs in the sides and slides them down. She raises up so he can slip them off, her fingers working his zipper at the same time.

Her hands are on him and he leans his head back, gasping for air. "God, woman," he murmurs.

She laughs, soft, and slides off his lap, going down onto her knees and taking him into her mouth, working him with her tongue. He rests his hands on the back of her head, gathering her hair in his fingers like reins.

When he's close, he gives a tug and she comes up, lowering herself onto him slowly, inch by agonizing inch. Bracing one hand on his shoulder, she undoes the buttons of her blouse, silk falling away from skin. He strokes a nipple then flicks his tongue across it. Her eyes fly open.

"Do it again," she demands.

He obliges, again and again. Her breath falls into rhythm with his and she moans, low. "Oh. God. Yes." He feels her contract around him as he explodes.

As they recover, Winona raises her head from his shoulder and kisses him. He tightens his arms around her, and she snuggles in against his chest. "I don't have to leave just yet," she says.

"Good."

Closing his eyes, he relishes the weight of her on his lap, trailing his fingers down the small of her back, making her shiver. Words they don't say are on his lips, but he swallows them.

"Da-ddy!" Willa's cry startles them both awake.

"Shit!" In one swift move, Winona is off his lap and they're on their feet.

Willa calls out again. "I'm thirsty!"

They scramble for their clothes and Winona bangs her shin on the coffee table.

"Ouch! Damn that hur-..." She covers her mouth with her hand, and turns to Raylan, eyes wide.

"Comin'," Raylan calls to their girl. "You stay in bed. I'll get ya some water."

Winona retreats to the kitchen, and he heads back to Willa's room, stopping in the bathroom to fill Willa's Scooby Doo cup with water, a nightly ritual he should have anticipated.

She's sitting up in bed, waiting. "I heard Mama," she says, yawning and reaching out for the cup. "Is she still here?"

"Ya musta had a dream," he tells her, not exactly lying. Willa drinks it all and snuggles back down, hugging Mr. Bear. "G'night, Daddy."

"Night, Willa." He kisses her forehead and replaces the cup in the bathroom before going back out to Winona.

"That was close," she says.

"Yep."

"I'd better go."

He nods and follows her to the door. She pauses, looking up at him. "We should stop."

"We should at least try," he agrees.

She hangs her head, raising a hand to swipe at her eyes.

"Hey," he murmurs, pulling her in. "Don't cry. It'll be okay."

They stand that way for a long time before she slips from his embrace, closing the door quietly behind her.


	3. Chapter 3

"Hey there," Richard says, leaning in for a kiss. He notices the Chinese take-out bag on the counter. "Did you save me some dinner?"

"How many times have I asked you to please leave your dirty work boots in the garage?" Winona snaps.

"Nice to see you, too," he says, stooping to take the boots off. He opens the door and sets them just outside. "Better?"

"It would've been better if you'd done that in the first place," she says. "Sherie was just here today and now the kitchen floor is already dirty." It was dirty anyway, since Willa spilled her milk at dinner, but she doesn't tell him that.

He reaches into the fridge for a can of Coke. Popping the top he looks at her. "Bad day?"

Her whole body is buzzing with the urge to start a fight, but she stops and takes a breath. "I'm just out of sorts," she says.

"Why? Did something happen at work?"

She shrugs. "No, it's nothing in particular." _Except that I've stopped screwing my ex-husband and I'm sad and frustrated and missing him and right now just looking at you makes me want to punch the wall._ She takes another deep breath.

He opens the fridge again, finding the cardboard containers and opening one to check the contents. "Kung Pao Chicken?"

"Yes. And there's some shrimp with broccoli and fried rice left, too."

He busies himself getting a plate and dishing up the leftovers.

"Why don't you go take a bath, or read? I'll tuck Willa in." He slides the plate into the microwave and pushes the button. "Besides, I've almost got _Click Clack Moo_ memorized." He grins at her.

Damn. Why does he have to be so nice when all she wants is a reason - it doesn't even have to be a good one – to have a knock-down-drag-out-go-sleep-on-the-couch fight?

"Willa's already had her bath. She's playing on the iPad in her room."

She'd yelled at her daughter when she spilled the milk, and the child had crumpled into tears. It's not her usual response and Winona wonders if Willa could feel the tension between her and Raylan when he'd dropped her off earlier. Feeling guilty, she'd put some of her own expensive bubble bath in Willa's tub and let the little girl play until the water was cool and her fingers and toes were wrinkly, then given her extra time on the iPad.

Now she puts the last of the dishes in the dishwasher and dries her hands. "I guess a bath might feel good." _At least it will get me away from you for a little while, before I say something I'll regret later – or not._

"Go." He kisses her cheek as the microwave dings.

In the tub, she tries to read the book for book club. Laurel at the office cajoled her into joining, and she likes the other women well enough, but this book is about a wife who's cheating on her husband and the subject hits a bit too close to home. Winona thinks she might just skip the meeting this month. She tosses the book onto the floor and sinks down into the water, closing her eyes.

She's not a good person. No matter how this plays out, someone is hurt. Maybe everyone. Even Willa. _Especially_ Willa. She wallows in self-loathing for a few minutes. Then she fumes. This all could have been avoided if Raylan had just come to _one_ of the counseling sessions she'd scheduled. If he had, maybe they'd still be together. But then, what if she'd had more patience and persistence, waited him out? He's changed _so_ much as Willa's grown. A tear makes its way down her cheek but she brushes it away angrily. If she starts now, she won't stop and she'll have to make something up to tell Richard, or blame PMS and she blamed that last week.

There's a rap at the door and Richard comes in. In one hand, he holds a glass of wine, in the other, his cell phone. "It's your mother," he says. "When you didn't answer yours, she called mine. Sorry. But I brought reinforcements."

She shrugs and reaches up. Richard hands her the wine first, and she takes a big swallow before reaching up again for the phone.

"Hi, Mama."

As usual her mother starts right in. "You need to stop by St. Stephen's tomorrow and sign Willa up for First Communion classes," she says. "I tried to do it today but it has to be a parent." She huffs a breath. "I told them that I was her _grandmother_ and the rule was ridiculous, but they wouldn't budge."

"Okay," Winona says. "I'll get to it later this week."

"Oh, no! It has to be tomorrow, Winona. If she isn't signed up, she won't get in Father Theo's class and she'll be stuck with one of the nuns. They don't like the pretty girls."

"Oh, Mama, that's ridiculous." She's not even sure she _wants_ Willa in First Communion classes, but she's in no condition emotionally to have that argument.

"It's not, I'm telling you. My friend Joyce volunteers and she said there are only four spaces left in Father Theo's class. And those nuns are simply awful to the little girls. Oh, please tell me you'll stop tomorrow on your way home from work."

She's no working tomorrow afternoon, but she doesn't tell her mother. Margery would want to make a day of it, lunch and shopping, and Winona doesn't have the energy for her mother right now.

"Alright, I'll stop tomorrow." She takes another gulp of wine; relishing the warm rush it gives her and the way it makes her mother's voice fade into background noise.

"Thank you, dear." Her mother pauses. "You sound tired. Are you getting enough sleep? Are you still running so much? I hope you're eating more than that awful kale salad you served me the last time I was over. You're too thin. Is Richard still working those horrible hours? Isn't that project done yet?"

As usual, her mother asks questions and barrels on, voicing her opinion without waiting for answers. It's exhausting just listening to her.

"I _am_ really tired, Mama. It's been a long day. Can we talk tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow is bridge night, but the girls all seem to lose steam earlier and earlier. I should be home by nine."

"Okay, I'll call you. G'night, Mama."

"Good night, Dear. Get some sleep and kiss that granddaughter of mine for me."

Winona clicks off and drops the cell phone onto the rug, swallowing the last of the wine as she sinks deeper into the water.

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

"I know what you're gonna say," Raylan starts as Dan slams the office door. "But I..."

"Jesus, Raylan! The guy has a black eye, two chipped teeth, and a four-inch gash in his head where he hit the pavement when you _shoved_ him out of the car. I guess I should just be happy you didn't shoot him!"

"I didn't shove him that hard," Raylan mutters. "Guy's an asshole."

"If being an asshole were a crime, you and I wouldn't be having this conversation."

Raylan screws up his face. "You callin' me an asshole?"

"If the expletive fits." Dan paces by the window. "This isn't like you lately. What were you thinking?" He sighs. "In today's climate law enforcement is under a microscope. All it's gonna take is some tourist's cell phone video and your face is all over the news and your career is over – probably mine, too. What's gotten into you?" He slaps a file folder on the desk and opens it.

"Last week you rammed a suspect's car and threatened to set him on fire. Then you pulled on that fugitive's 83-year-old landlady..."

"She wasn't a landlady, she was that punk's grandmother and she _knew_ she was harborin' a fugitive. Plus..." He points a finger. "She had a gun."

"It was a pellet gun, Raylan. And now this. If he files assault charges or goes to the media..."

"He won't."

"You'd better hope not." Dan turns his back and the reprimand is over. Raylan adjusts the hat and walks back out into the office. Sutter glances up, but the others all pretend not to have been watching.

He slaps the hat down and sits at his desk and stares at the computer screen. Dammit. Even though it isn't noon yet, the only thing keeping him from heading out to go on a bender is knowing that he has Willa tomorrow night. He enjoys their time together too much to be hung over.

"Maybe you should get out of here."

He looks up to see Munõz standing by his desk. The man needs a haircut, his too-small suit jacket is rumpled, and there's a spot on his tie. His wardrobe makes Raylan look like a snazzy dresser.

"I gotta go pick up a warrant at Judge Mitchell's private office. Wanna ride shotgun?"

Wordlessly he slides the hat back on and follows the shorter deputy to the elevators.

"Look," Munõz says as he eases the car out into late afternoon traffic. "It's none of my business, but I gotta tell you...we heard tales before you came back down from Kentucky. I mean, everyone knew about Tommy Bucks, but we heard what a renegade you were up there - that whole thing with the Detroit mob, and then the Crowes? No one was looking forward to working with you again – 'cept maybe Sutter, but he can be a wild card, too."

He casts a sideways glance at Raylan before going on. "For the most part, you've been a pleasant surprise. Had a rough month or two when your marriage went south..."

"We weren't married." _Maybe I shoulda asked. Maybe we'd've stayed together if we'd taken that step. At least maybe she wouldn'ta wanted a_ third _divorce under her belt._

Munõz shrugs. "Whatever, anyway, you got that kid - we all understood that. But the last couple of weeks? I know you aren't a talker, and the chief has a tighter asshole than usual what with all the crap coming down from D.C., so I sure as hell wouldn't tell him anything. But I like you, man, and I've had three wives and six kids and there's not much you could say that'd surprise me. Anyone can tell something's eatin' at you and it's nothin' that's happened in the office. So spill."

"Thanks for the offer," Raylan says, squinting into the sun streaming through the side window. "But I'll pass."

 _What am I s'posed to say? I was screwing my married ex-wife but we've stopped and that's a probably a good thing, but I feel shitty about it._

"Suit yourself." Munõz shrugs.

He pulls up in front of a familiar building and Raylan curses himself for this ride-along. _Aw, hell. This is where Winona works._ He gets out of the car, slamming the door hard enough to earn a questioning look from his fellow deputy. _She only works part time. What are the chances of running into her?_

Pretty good, as it turns out.

"Hold the door!" Munõz reaches out and grabs it and she slides in, hiking her purse to her shoulder and clutching a stack of files against her chest. She thanks him, not immediately seeing Raylan in the corner.

"Oh," she says, when she notices him. Her eyes widen. "Raylan."

"Hey," he returns. They stare at each other for a moment then drop their gaze. The navy wrap dress she's wearing shows off all her curves and Raylan can't help looking.

"I'm Ric Munõz," Ric says, holding out his hand. "I work with Raylan. You're his ex, right? Willa's mom?"

She nods and takes his hand. "Winona."

"Nice to meet you." His eyes shift to Raylan and back. "You've got quite a girl there. She's got this one wrapped around her finger." He hooks a thumb at Raylan.

That brings a smile from Winona. "She does."

The elevator seems to move extremely slowly. Winona shifts her weight from one foot to the other in her heels, her eyes raised to the advancing numbers as they light up.

"Willa has a game tomorrow at 4," she says as the door opens on her floor. "Do you just want to meet us there?"

"That'll work."

"Good. Nice to meet you." She flashes that smile at Munõz again, and exits, Raylan's eyes on her until the door slides shut.

"So," Ric looks at him. " _That's_ the problem."

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

At St. Stephen's she has to walk through the vestibule to get to the parish office. Joyce, the secretary smiles when she gives her Willa's name.

"Oh, your mother will be so glad you stopped in," she says. "She was worried about Willa being in the second class with Sister Rebecca. I told her she was perfectly lovely, but you know your mother."

Winona returns the smile and nods. "I do. When are the classes?"

"Father Theo's is on Sundays, after mass. Father Mac doesn't do these classes anymore. One of the benefits of being semi-retired."

"That should work. If I can't bring her, Mama or Richard can."

"Is that her father, Richard?" Joyce pauses with her hands above the computer keys.

"No, Richard's my husband, her step-father. Raylan is her father."

"Full name?"

"Raylan Givens."

"No middle?"

Winona thinks. Raylan told her once, but it was so long ago. She bites her lip. "Earl." _I think. Or maybe it's Eugene._ All she knows is that it started with an 'E' and Raylan hated it.

"Is he Catholic?"

"No."

"Religious afflilation?"

She shrugs. "None, really."

They'd had that in common when they first met. She'd left her mother's Catholicism behind in Kentucky, and Raylan didn't profess anything beyond a belief that folks did awful things in the name of God and the hope that there would be some form of eternal punishment for the kind of people he worked so hard to put away.

Now she isn't sure what either one of them believes.

"Alright." Joyce finishes typing, hits a button on the printer, and hands Winona a schedule. "And remember, if she misses more than three of the sessions, she has to start over."

 _Why am I even doing this? Because I don't want a fight with Mama._

She sighs. "Thank you." She slides the paper into the side pocket of her hobo bag.

"Tell your mother hello for me," Joyce says.

Walking back through the narthex, Winona stops to glance into the sanctuary. It's a little past two and she still has to pick up Willa and get home to change them both before the game, but the sun is streaming in the stained glass windows and it looks so peaceful inside that before she realizes it she's sitting in a pew, her hands folded in her lap. She hasn't spent much time in a church since she was a kid, and even then her mother's piety was sporadic. For Margery it had been more about show, and she'd made sure Winona and Gayle were baptized, communed, and confirmed - and she had the pictures to prove it. But there was no real emphasis on attending mass or practicing the faith.

Now, Gayle and Dan attended the Baptist church where he grew up and Winona didn't go anywhere, unless Richard or her mother insisted. Raylan's distrust of organized religion must've rubbed off on her. Still, this place is calming, and she feels something loosen inside her.

She takes a few deep breaths. Seeing Raylan in the elevator today was a surprise. She's used to having time to steel herself for their meetings so that she can temper the feelings that spring to the surface, but today she didn't have that chance. Her heart beat faster just looking at him and she felt the familiar pull. She's gone and fallen in love with him all over again.

"I've really made a mess of things again." She doesn't realize she's spoken out loud until the voice answers.

"Most of us do, at one time or another. I think He understands."

She starts at the voice, looking up to see Father Theo. The middle-aged priest is tall, well over six feet, with dark brown hair and a close-cropped beard. He's new to the parish in the last year and with Winona's attendance being infrequent at best, she's only met him once or twice before.

"I'm sorry," She says, pushing to her feet.

"Oh, no." He waves her back down. "That's why the sanctuary is open. We want people to come in. God wants people to come in."

She gives a wry smile. "If he sees everything, I'm not so sure he wants me here."

The priest laughs. "Of course he does. When we make a mistake, a loving father always wants us to come home. And believe me, there's nothing you've done that can't be mended and forgiven."

She's not so sure about that, but she stays quiet.

"I'll let you alone," Father Theo says. "But if you ever need a listening ear, that's my job." He lays a hand on her shoulder briefly, and leaves.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N Thank you all for the reviews. They're very inspiring! I'm enjoying writing this extension of Raylan's story. It helps postpone the inevitable realization that there will be no more_ Justified _. Of course, that doesn't mean there will be no more stories, even when this one is done (it's not even close!)_

 _I'm mostly posting on Tuesdays and Saturdays, but with the holiday, this chapter was ready early, so why not?_

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

Willa tucks her chin to her chest and shuffles her feet, bringing the bat to her shoulder. She's small compared to the other kids on the 6-year-old-coach-pitch team and Raylan and Winona hold their breath as the coach winds up and throws.

 _CRACK!_ Willa makes contact, the ball sails over the coach's head, and their little girl stands there, stunned.

"Run!" Raylan yells. "Willa! Run!"

The mom who's playing umpire for this game gives Willa a nudge. "Go on, Honey, run!"

She takes off, hesitating at first, but when the ball rolls all the way to the fence and the outfielder struggles to snag it in his glove, the first base coach waves her on and she picks up speed, ponytail bouncing out the back of her ball cap. She almost trips when she glances up to where Winona and Raylan are sitting as she rounds third.

"Go, Willa!" Winona yells, cupping her hands around her mouth.

Raylan leaps to his feet. "Home run! That's my girl!" He turns to hug Winona but catches himself, instead shading his eyes and looking toward the dugout. She folds her arms across her chest, following his gaze.

Four or five other kids in matching bright blue batting helmets and white shirts with _Delphi Dolphins_ printed on them run out to high-five Willa. Back on the bench, her eyes find her father's and she gives him thumbs up and a huge grin.

He sits back down, a grin spreading across his face, too. "I took her to the batting cages last week."

"I know. She told me." Winona leans forward with her elbows on her knees and rests her chin in her hand as she looks at him. "You must be a good coach. She swung and missed on every pitch last game."

"She's a quick study. All she needed was a little practice keeping her eye on the ball."

She studies him as he looks toward the bench again, beaming, obviously proud of their daughter. He's changed into jeans and a Florida Marlins t-shirt, the shirt stretching nicely over his muscled arms.

It's a hot, sultry afternoon and Winona grabs a water bottle from the insulated cooler at her feet, conscious of not touching him as she passes it over. At one point their knees bump accidently and she scoots on the bleachers, leaving a wider space between them. She meets his gaze and looks away. This is hard.

"Where's Richard, tonight?"

If this is Raylan's idea of breaking the tension, it doesn't work, not for her, anyway. She and Richard have been bickering all week, her husband's usual unflappability disrupted by pressure from his boss to get this job done on schedule and anxiety over his son's upcoming visit. Winona is out of sorts for an entirely different reason.

"They're still trying to finish this job. He wants to take a couple of vacation days next week when Tomás is here."

"Willa seems excited to see him. How long's he stayin'?"

"I don't know, really." Richard has been vague about Tomás' schedule this time and she's not sure why. Last year he was with them for two or three weeks now, and then again, right before school started in August, but this time when she's tried to pin Richard down so she can make other plans for the summer, he's given her the run around.

Willa's next turn at bat is a strike out, and her team loses, 3-1, her homerun their only score.

"You did great," Raylan says, throwing an arm around her.

"I did just what you said, Daddy! I kept my eye on the ball and I got a homerun!" She looks up at him. "Why didn't I hit it the last time?"

"Rome wasn't built in a day," Raylan says. Willa looks puzzled.

"Daddy means you can't hit _every_ ball," Winona offers. "Hey, that's okay I can't hit _any."_

"You just need to practice, Mama." Willa says seriously.

They walk together to the parking lot, Willa skipping ahead. At the car, Winona opens the trunk and pulls Willa's overnight bag out. "I packed you a change of clothes for the party," she says. "And your present for Brooklyn is in there, so be careful not to smash it."

"Party?" Raylan takes the bag and shuts the hatch for her.

"Oh, did I forget to tell you?" She avoids his questioning look, fishing in her purse and coming up with a postcard she thrusts at him. "Willa's invited to a birthday party for one of her friends tomorrow at Pizza Palace."

"Pizza Palace?" He scowls as he stares at the cartoon king with a large nose and a slice of pizza in his hand smiling up from the card. "Is that the place where the waiters dress like knights and everyone has to wear a crown?"

"It is." Winona laughs and whispers to Willa. "Make sure Daddy takes a selfie with you. Mama wants to see."

"Pizza Palace is awesome," Willa says. "You get a crown and gold coins and there's all kinds of games and they sing and everything. It's Brooklyn's birthday, so she'll get to sit on the throne."

Raylan smirks and raises an eyebrow.

"Not that kind of throne," Winona says.

"I can't wait," Raylan says, to his daughter, but he rolls his eyes at Winona who chuckles.

"You sure it's okay if I pick her up a little early on Sunday? We've got to go to the airport to get Tomás. His flight gets in at five."

"That's fine," Raylan says. "I've got a transport over to Desoto early on Monday morning. I'll be back on Tuesday." He opens the back door of the SUV and tosses in the duffel bag. He tells himself it's a truck, but in truth, he bought it for the crash safety rating. He did his research, the same as when he insisted on the used Volvo when Winona's Toyota died.

"Hop in," he says to Willa.

"Bye, Mama." Winona bends over and Willa gives her a kiss before climbing into the back and buckling herself into the booster seat.

"Don't feed her too much junk," Winona says. She thrusts her hands into the pockets of her sundress and leans against the car.

"I won't," he promises. "I'm gonna go to the grocery on the way home and pick up some kale." His eyes twinkle and she smiles.

"And if I know you, you'll also get ice cream, Oreos, and hot dogs."

"There you go, all four food groups. Doesn't that balance it out?"

"There are five food groups, Raylan," Winona says. "And _I_ balance it out the rest of the time."

"We make a good team." The words are out before he considers them, and his eyes fall away from her.

She nods. They _are_ a good team. She misses him. Misses their stolen moments. It's been over a month and she knows they're doing the right thing, but it doesn't _feel_ right.

"What're ya doin' for dinner?"

She shrugs. "I'll grab a salad on the way home." With Richard working she's not looking forward to going home to eat alone in an empty house, flicking through channels with nothing on. It gives her too much time to think.

"Why don't you come over and eat with us?"

"Do you think that's a good idea?"

"I do!" Willa cries through the window. "Can we make tacos?"

"There. We have a chaperone." Raylan grins. "I guess it's been decided."

" _Chicken_ tacos, with lots of veggies," Winona says. "Okay?"

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

"G'night, Mama," Willa says. "I love you."

She tucks the blanket around her daughter and smoothes her hair. "Love you, too, Punkin'. Richard and I will see you Sunday and we'll go pick up Tomás."

Raylan kisses her cheek. "Night, Willa."

"Night, Daddy. Love you."

"Love you back." Raylan closes the door behind them, leaving it open a crack with the hall light on the way Willa likes.

In the living room, Winona picks up her purse. "Dinner was good. I didn't know you'd become such a chef." She was surprised not only with the well-stocked refrigerator, but also with his growing collection of cookware and other tools. Not to mention Willa's eagerness to help.

"Necessity. Willa likes Indian take-out about as much as I like peanut-butter and jelly, and I know how you feel about too much pizza," Raylan says.

"Well, I'm impressed." She shoulders her bag, hand on the door knob.

He cocks his head, leaning against the doorframe. "You don't have to run off."

She smiles. "Don't you think I should? Our chaperone has gone to bed."

"We could talk."

She stares at her feet. The polish on her toes is chipped. It's time for a new pedicure. "We've never been very good at that."

"Wanna play gin rummy?"

She laughs. "I suppose we could talk. Out here." She gestures to the stoop.

"Seems safe enough. Want a beer?"

"Sure."

He disappears, returning with two frost-coated bottles of Sam Adams.

"You like to switch it up," she notes.

"I do." He sits on the cement step, stretching out his long legs in front of him and she eases down beside him. Close, but not too close.

A car rounds the curve, headlights illuminating the driveway and the porch, then disappears towards the front of the complex.

"What's your middle name?" Winona asks, in between sips of beer.

"Earl," He grimaces. "You knew that."

She wrinkles her nose. "I thought that was it, but I wasn't sure."

"Why'd ya need to know Winona Louise?" Even in the dark, she can see his teasing grin. He knows she's about as fond of her middle name as he is of his.

"Funny." She taps his bottle with hers. "They needed it at the parish for Willa's first communion class." She takes a long drink.

"First communion?" He turns his head to look at her. "She's six."

"It's just instruction. She won't actually commune until she's eight."

"Still." He makes a face. "They really like to get their claws in early, don't they?"

She sighs, brushing a stray hair from her face. "I know. I'm really not sure about the whole thing either but Mama..."

"Tell her I said 'no'."

"Really?" She's relieved to have an excuse for her mother. She wasn't fishing for him to object, but she really should've expected it. Of course he should have a say.

"You're lookin' for an 'out', right?" He finishes his beer and sets the bottle down between them. "Just tell her I said I don't want her bein' indoctrinated so young. I think we should wait until she can make the decision for herself what she wants to believe."

"I might not use the word 'indoctrinated' when I talk to Margery." The corners of her mouth turn up. "But I think so, too. Thank you."

"For what?" He snorts. "Your mother never liked me anyway. Now she just has another reason."

"She does think you're a good dad," Winona says. "She knows you want the best for Willa."

"Well, there's that at least."

"She's never really forgiven you for not being here when Willa was born." She looks straight ahead and not at Raylan, but she knows he's clenched his jaw, resisting.

"Have _you_?"

Now she looks. "I hadn't, I don't think, when we were together. I think that's where some of my anger came from." She nods slowly. "But now I've kind of let that go. I mean, I still wish you'd been here with us in person, not just seen her in the delivery room over Skype, but I guess I get that you just weren't in a good place. And I see how you are with her now, how you adore her and she adores you right back and, well, it just doesn't matter all that much."

A breeze comes off the salt marsh behind the condos, bringing the stinging smell of the ocean with it and ruffling her hair and the skirt of her sundress.

His voice comes soft. "I wish I'd been there."

It's the first time he's said it, _ever,_ and it takes her by surprise. She waits, to see if he'll say more.

"I shoulda been there." He stares straight ahead. "The only child I'm likely to have and I missed it. 'Cause I was...what...scared? Still pissed that you left me again? I don't even know why."

She scoots closer, laying her head against his shoulder. "It's okay. You aren't that man anymore. You've changed. She's changed you." She takes a breath. "Remember when you found me hiding out at Gayle's and I told you that if you were gonna change for me, you would've done it already?"

He nods.

"You changed for Willa. I'm not even sure you realized it while it was happening. I mean, look where you live." She chuckles. "Deputy U.S. Marshal Raylan Givens in a family-friendly condo."

She tilts her head up to see the smile.

"I guess I have changed."

"I wish I'd waited for it." The words catch in her throat.

He slips an arm around her. "Looks like we both have our regrets."

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

"There he is!" Willa squeals, pointing. "Tomás! Tomás!."

Winona isn't sure how Willa's even recognized him; he looks so different. He's taller for one thing, and his hair, thick and dark like his father's, hangs in waves past his ears, bangs almost covering his eyes. She's surprised the private school his grandparents have him in allows that. He's wearing a plain white t-shirt, jeans with a rip in the knee he could stick his foot through, and black Converse high tops. He hasn't seen them. He's looking at the ground as he shuffles forward, the headphones jammed in his ears likely drowning out Willa's cries.

As he reaches the end of the moving walkway, he finally looks up and spots them. The expression on his face doesn't change, but he makes his way across the carpeted area separating arriving passengers from those there to greet them.

"Tomás!" Willa is jumping up and down now, but the boy ignores her.

Richard steps forward to hug his son. "It's good to see you." Tomás accepts the hug grudgingly, but doesn't remove the headphones. Richard tugs one out of his ear.

"Hey!" he growls, angry. "I was listening to that."

Willa bounces over. "Hi, Tomás!"

He looks at his father. "I don't go by Tomás anymore. Call me Tom or Tommy, okay?" He moves to stick the ear bud back in, but Richard stops him with a hand on his arm.

"Say hello to Winona and Willa. They've been excited to see you."

"Hi," Tomás says. Then he scowls at his father. "Satisfied?" He sticks the ear bud back in and points at the sign for baggage.

Willa looks about to cry and Winona reaches for her hand. "Tomás – Tommy," – she tries to follow the boy's directive – "is probably just tired," she tells her daughter.

The little girl pouts all the way to baggage claim. "I hafta go to the bathroom," she says to her mother.

"Alright," Winona says. She leans in to Richard. "I'm going to take her to the ladies room. Maybe you can mention to him that she's been looking forward to seeing him?"

"I already did." He looks at his son, standing morosely at the turnstile waiting for his bag.

"Well, her feelings are hurt and I don't blame her. He was so good with her last year. What's happened?"

Richard shrugs. "He's thirteen. Almost fourteen. I guess he's at that age. I don't want to start his visit off with an argument."

"So, you aren't going to say anything? Because if you don't I..."

"Don't, okay? You'll just be the wicked step-mother if you do."

She turns her back to him and tugs on Willa's hand. "Come on, Punkin', we'll use the restroom and maybe get some ice cream while they wait for the bags."

"Ice cream?" Willa cocks her head at her mother, as if she isn't sure what she just heard her say.

"Yes. A special treat," Winona says as they walk away. "Just for you."


	5. Chapter 5

"Once it's official, you and Leslie should come down to Miami," Raylan says. "I'd be happy to show you around."

"Show us what? Titty bars and pre-school playgrounds? Now that's a real dichotomy you got goin' there, Raylan."

"Nah, I'm movin' up in the world. Willa already graduated preschool. She's gonna be a kindergartener in the fall." He chuckles as he opens the cupboard and pours a finger of bourbon into his glass. "And I don't drink in bars so much anymore. I do my drinkin' at home. It's cheaper."

"I told you daughters were expensive."

"It wasn't a lie," he says.

"Wait until you pay for the wedding. I know you think you got awhile, but take it from me, they grow up fast. How'd she get to be a kindergartener already?"

"I have no idea. I don't think _I'm_ any older. But I do have more gray hair."

"At least you got hair."

It's familiar banter and Raylan smiles as he flops into the recliner and clicks the remote, putting the Heat game on mute. He and Art have gotten into the habit of talking once a week or so and he looks forward to the conversations. The tension that often plagued them during his time in Kentucky is mostly gone, and with Art retiring he figures they have a pretty good chance to keep it that way.

"I'd really like you and Leslie to meet Willa. You haven't seen her since she was a baby." He smiles, thinking of his daughter. "I tell ya, Art, she's somethin' else."

"Leslie'd love that. She showed me some pictures Winona sent. Willa sure is a pretty little thing."

"Takes after her mama."

"Thank God," Art chuckles.

"But she's smart, too," Raylan adds.

"Again like her Mama. She get anything from you?" Art quips.

"She's stubborn and ornery."

"That'd be your genes all right." He chuckles.

"And she hit a homerun in her ball game the other night."

"You been coaching her?"

"A bit. She's gonna be a good little hitter, but she really likes to throw."

"Hmmm. Maybe a pitcher."

"Maybe," Raylan agrees.

"They make more money. Maybe she can pay for her own wedding." Both men laugh.

"Tell ya what," Art says. "Let me get these last couple of weeks over with and we'll talk about it. Leslie has a sister in Raleigh she's been itching to visit. I'd imagine we could tack some extra time on and come down."

"That'd be great, Art." He sips the bourbon. "How's Tim?"

"Why am I always the go-between? Don't you two talk?"

"He rings me once in awhile, usually with a question about something he could find an answer for on the internet."

Tim also sends anonymous packages. Raylan will open an envelope to find a tattered paperback or two, usually a crime novel, but sometimes it's a spy or military story. Tucked throughout the book there'll be sticky notes with a sarcastic comment or two. Raylan always reads the books, passing them on to Sutter or Muñoz when he's done, but he tosses the sticky notes into his nightstand drawer. He's not sure why.

"Sometimes he sends book reviews, too," Raylan adds.

"Poor Tim, not in touch enough with his emotions to say he misses you."

"He's welcome to visit anytime, too. I got a guest room." He takes another swallow. "Do you hear much from Rachel?"

"She calls every so often," Art says. "She likes Seattle. Likes her Chief, although it doesn't look like he's retiring anytime soon. I hate to see her get stuck on that hamster wheel." He sighs. "But, she's got herself a steady boyfriend. This one might be a keeper. She's still got feelers out for Ava Crowder, but there hasn't been anything for awhile now. I told Rachel she's probably either dead or out of the country."

Raylan swirls what's left of the amber liquid around in the glass. "Maybe she's in Fiji surfin' with Wynn Duffy," he says, hoping his voice sounds light.

"Could be. By the way, it is amazing how quiet things have been down in Harlan since you moved away."

Raylan gives a snort. "Don't forget Boyd's gone, too."

"I'm really not sure which one of you was the main cause of all the ruckus. But I do know you were the bigger pain in my ass."

"I miss you, too, Art."

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

"You're not my mother!" Tomás yells before slamming the door in Winona's face. She sets the laundry basket down and counts to ten before knocking on the door. These past two weeks with Tomás - Tommy - have tried every ounce of her patience and Richard still hasn't said how long he's staying. She takes several deep breaths.

"I'm going to leave this here. Please bring the basket back to the laundry room after you put your clothes away."

She takes the stack of Willa's things from the top and goes into her daughter's room. Willa's flopped on her stomach, a coloring book spread out in front of her. The new box of 80 some colors Raylan got her is scattered around her on the floor.

"Come help Mama put your clothes away," Winona says.

"Inaminute." She continues coloring.

"No, now, please."

Willa looks up. "Do I have to?"

"Yes."

She sighs, and gets up, carefully stepping over the crayons. Winona slides the heavy drawer open and Willa stuffs the underwear in. "Why is Tommy so mad all the time?" She asks. Of all of them, Willa's had the least trouble switching to the Americanized name Tomás has adopted. She's been calling him Tommy since day one, but that hasn't gotten her any special treatment.

"I don't know, Punkin'." Winona hands her some folded socks and opens the next drawer.

"I asked him to sing the frog song for me." She jams the socks in the drawer. "Do you remember the frog song from last summer?"

"I do," Winona says. She remembers a different, happier Tomás sitting on the patio, Willa on his lap, singing every verse of the old Three Dog Night song "Jeremiah Was a Bullfrog". As soon as he'd finish, Willa would clap her hands and say "Again!" and he would sing it over and over. Winona still blames him for Willa's six-month obsession with the slimy creatures that only ended when the neighbors got a new puppy.

"He said it was a stupid baby song." Willa's lower lip juts out.

Winona sits on the bed and Willa climbs into her lap. "I'm sorry. He isn't being very nice to me, either." She wraps her arms around the little girl and rests her chin on Willa's head. Her hair smells like Winona's shampoo, but if she concentrates, she can still get a whiff of the sweet smell she remembers from when Willa was a baby.

"Richard should make him," Willa announces. "Just like you make me put my clothes away."

Winona agrees, but she's not getting anywhere on that argument with her husband. He and Tommy have some kind of truce going, and _in front_ of his father, the boy is polite but distant to her and Willa. When Richard's gone, it's another story.

Yesterday he'd called her a 'bitch' under his breath when she asked him to put his dishes in the sink. When she'd told Richard, Tommy denied it and Richard asked if she could have 'misheard' him.

"I know what I heard, Richard," she'd said.

The boy's smug gaze followed her as she stormed back into the kitchen.

Now, she walks from Willa's room back into the hallway. The basket with Tommy's clothes is still sitting outside the door. "To hell with privacy," she mutters. She picks up the pile and lays a hand on the knob, ready to walk in and throw the clothes at him, but the door is locked.

"Open this door," she says. No answer.

"Tommy? Open the door now." There's still no answer. She considers calling Richard at work, but knows he would only tell her she was over-reacting.

" _Brat."_ She mutters under her breath. She needs to get out of here because she's seriously considering kicking the door in.

"Alright," she says aloud. "Be that way. Come on, Willa," she calls. "Let's go to the library and get you some new books."

"Yay!" Willa shouts as she comes charging out of her room. She skids to a stop by Tommy's door. "Is he coming with us?"

"No, he's not coming," Winona says, loud enough for him to hear in the locked room.

Willa dashes back into her bedroom, returning with Mr. Bear in tow. "Mr. Bear wants a car ride," she tells her mother.

This is odd. When Willa was three and four, Mr. Bear went everywhere with them and Winona's worst nightmare was losing him. Once she accidently left him in the shopping cart at Publix and Willa had screamed without stopping on the ten-minute drive back to rescue him. Lately, though, while Willa still sleeps with the battered stuffed animal, and always remembers to take him with her to her dad's, he mostly remains tucked among the pillows on her bed during the day. Now he's along for the ride. Winona decides it's best not to make a big deal about it.

In the garage, Winona loads Willa and Mr. Bear into the car, humming to herself as she pushes the buttons to set the security system. If Tommy tries to leave the house while they're gone, the alarm will go off and scare the bejeezus out of him.

" _It'll serve you right_ ," she thinks.

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

A Miami-Dade Police cruiser is parked in front of the house when they return.

"What in the hell were you thinking? Leaving him home alone like that?" Richard rages at her from the front walk as she gets out of the car. Willa follows, clutching her bag of library books and Mr. Bear. Startled by the yelling, she wraps an arm around her mother and buries her face in her skirt. Winona strokes her hair.

"He locked himself in his room. _After_ he yelled at me and slammed his door in my face," Winona says, trying to stay calm. "I thought by setting the alarm he'd at least stay put until we got back. We needed a break from him."

"So you left him! You just left him. Real way to be the adult, Winona." Richard shakes his head in disgust.

She snaps back. "He's a spoiled brat who's being allowed to be disrespectful and..."

"For God's sake. He's just a kid with growing pains. You've been on him since he got off the plane."

She's yelling back now. "I just want a little respect! He can't even be nice to a six-year old!"

"Give him some slack, Winona."

"Slack? You're giving him enough for both of us. He's mean to Willa. He won't do a thing I ask him to..."

" _Bitch."_ Tommy mutters from where he sits, slumped over, on the porch.

"Did you hear him _that_ time?!" She glares at her husband.

Richard points a finger at Tommy. "I'll deal with you later."

"Mr. Ortiz," one of the uniformed Miami police officers responding to the home alarm steps forward, and interrupts them. "Your son was trying to get _in_ to the house, not out of it."

"What're you talking about? You heard her, he locked himself in his room before she left."

The cop points around the side of the house. "Come with us."

As they move to follow him, Winona hears a car door slam behind her. Willa squirms from her grasp, dropping her bag of books on the driveway.

"Daddy!"

She turns to see Raylan making long strides up the sidewalk. Willa runs to him, and he picks her up, settling her on his hip.

"Oh, great," Richard says. "Just great. The cowboy's here."

"What's goin' on?" Raylan asks. Willa tightens her grip around his neck, still clutching Mr. Bear as they come up to Winona.

"Tommy's in big trouble," Willa says.

"You okay?"

Winona nods.

The cops stop and turn around. "Who are you?" The younger one asks.

"Deputy U.S. Marshal Givens. I heard the address on the scanner. That's my daughter." He hands Willa over to her mother and lifts his shirt to show the Marshal's star clipped to his belt.

"What's going on here Officer...?"

"Barnett," The policeman says. "I was just about to show them."

His partner turns to Tommy. "Come on, son," he says. Tommy reluctantly pushes to his feet and follows them, head down, hands shoved into his pockets.

Around the corner of the house Officer Barnett points up to the window of Tommy's bedroom, about ten feet off the ground. "See the way those bricks jut out? Makes a nifty little ladder if you're small." He casts a glance at the boy.

"He's not talkin', but we figure that's how he got down." He pulls back a branch on one of the bushes close to the house. "There's some broken branches here on your bush and he's got a scratch on his leg. Probably fell the last three feet or so."

His partner steps in. "When we got here, he was trying to boost himself through this window over here. Evidently he didn't think about how he was going to get back in."

"Look, he had a fight with his step mother, snuck away and got locked out. No harm, no foul," Richard says. "I'll talk to him."

"Well," Officer Barnett says. "When we pulled up, we startled him and he dropped this." He pulls out a baggie containing ten or twelve small yellow pills and looks at Richard. "Does your son have a prescription for Ritalin?"

Richard shifts his weight from one foot to the other, staring at the baggie. "Yeah," he says. "He was having some trouble in school. He's been taking it for a few months now, according to his grandparents. He's visiting me from Philly for the summer."

Winona sucks in a breath at that new information, and Raylan raises an eyebrow, but neither of them speaks.

"Well, these have a street value of about $30 a pill, which probably explains what else we found in the bag he was carrying." His partner produces a plastic Publix bag with a wad of bills and several gift cards for Amazon and iTunes.

"There's about $400 bucks here, plus the gift cards," he says. "Altogether close to $600."

"Six hundred dollars? Jesus Christ." Richard stares at Tommy who rolls his eyes. "What the hell, Tomás?"

"Sir, we'd like to take a look in the boy's room," Officer Barnett says. "If you don't mind."

"Of course," Richard says. He reaches into his pocket for the house keys.

Raylan shakes his head and Winona turns her back to the two officers, laying a hand on her husband's arm. Their bodies form a circle, shutting the police officers out. "Raylan doesn't think that's a good idea," she says quietly.

"What does _he_ have to do with this?" He makes no attempt to keep his voice low and Raylan responds the same way.

"I'm just tryin' to help. You don't want to let them in his room," he says. "It could open a whole new can of worms.

"When did you become a lawyer?" Richard glares at him.

"I'm not a lawyer," Raylan huffs. "But you're gonna need one. These aren't chump charges."

"Why the hell don't you mind your own business?"

"Richard!" Winona backs away from him and Willa sticks her thumb in her mouth, hiding her face in her mother's hair.

The cops share a who's-in-charge-here glance listening to the volley of words.

"Look, if we decide there's merit, we can come back with a search warrant. We're going to need to take him down to Juvenile Detention and talk to him. You can call a lawyer, or waive that right and just come yourself."

"Get a lawyer," Raylan advises.

"I can call Kit Martin at the firm," Winona says. "He does criminal law."

Richard shakes his head. "Tomás isn't a criminal," he says. "I'm sure there's an explanation."

"The explanation is he was sellin' his medication on the street." Raylan mutters.

"Tell him he can go now," Richard says to Winona.

She catches Raylan's eye and walks back toward the front of the house, letting Richard deal with the cops. "Maybe you could take Willa to your place until we figure out what we're doing? I think this is all upsetting for her."

"I wanna stay with you, Mama," Willa says, raising her head.

"Look," Raylan says. "Why don't I go downtown with Richard? I know the ins and outs and it'll go a lot faster. You call that Kit person. No matter what Richard thinks, Tomás is going to need a lawyer."

She wrinkles her nose. "I don't think he's going to want your help."

He sighs, looking over her shoulder toward the backyard, one hand on his hip. "Well, I can at least offer."

She catches his gaze, holding it. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He ruffles Willa's hair.

As Winona heads into the house with Willa, the two cops come around from the back of the house, Tomás between them. For once, the boy looks chagrined. Richard trails behind.

"I'm gonna follow you downtown, Tommy, okay? I'm right behind you." He swipes a hand over his face as he watches them load his son into the back of the cruiser.


	6. Chapter 6

"I was a jerk back there," Richard says as Raylan weaves his way through the suburban Miami streets and onto the freeway. "I just..." he shakes his head. "Do you think they're gonna keep him overnight? They can't keep him overnight, can they?"

"Yeah," Raylan says. "They can. And they probably will."

"But he's just a kid!" Richard's voice breaks and Raylan keeps his eye on the road.

"To the cops he's a kid caught with prescription medication. That's possession, and it's a felony."

"Can they prove it?"

"They already have. He had the drugs in his possession. That's all it takes. The ADA is gonna look at that and go for an indictment."

Silence fills the car. Raylan keeps his eyes on the cruiser, several cars ahead in the other lane. The cops' blinker goes on and Raylan does likewise, preparing to exit.

"Has Tommy made any friends since he's been here? Had anyone over to the house?"

"I don't know," Richard sighs. "This damn job we're on has kept me pretty busy. I took a couple of days off when he got here, but this week, I've worked late almost every night. It's not like I can just tell my boss 'no'. I mean, what am I supposed to do?"

Raylan wisely keeps his mouth shut. He knows all about putting work ahead of, well, anything. But listening to Richard he's glad he hasn't done that lately. He might have lost Winona, but now he's putting Willa first.

He pulls up in front of the precinct and parks behind the cruiser. Officer Barnett and his partner have already taken Tommy inside.

"Okay, listen," Raylan says. "They're going to book him...do fingerprints, take his picture, all that stuff you see on TV. But he's a minor and they can't question him without you. My advice? Don't say anything until the lawyer gets here."

"I didn't call a lawyer," Richard says.

"Winona did." Raylan glances at his phone. "Kit Martin is on his way. One other thing." He turns to look at Richard. "Does Tommy have any kind of record? Because they're gonna find out if he does, and it'd be better for it to come from you."

Winona's husband pauses, his hand on the car door. He sighs again, leaning back in the seat. "

"Carson – Tomás' grandfather, called me about a month before he was due to come down. Evidently, he and some other boys had been texting or snapchatting or whatever it is these kids do and they were sending nude pictures of some girl at that fancy private school he went to. Only it turns out it wasn't that girl at all, just her face photo-shopped onto some picture they got from the internet. Needless to say, the girl's parents got hot about it anyway and the boys were all expelled."

"No drugs, then?"

He turns in his seat, shaking his head. "No, just ordinary teenage guy stuff, turned up a notch because of the internet. That's the way Carson made it sound. If there was anything else, he didn't tell me about it, and the only one of the boys who got into legal trouble was a kid who was over eighteen. He was the instigator, and he'd dated the girl. She broke up with him and the whole thing was payback."

Richard stares straight ahead through the windshield. "Of course, Carson doesn't have a great record of honesty where Tomás or his mother is concerned, so I take what he says with a grain of salt."

"But you believed him."

"Yeah, I did."

"What about Tommy's mother," Raylan asks, sticking with the name the boy prefers. "Is she in the picture?"

"No and I have no idea where she is," Richard says. "Last I heard Gina was using again. Carson and Deliah may not know either."

"Tommy's mother is into drugs?"

Richard nods. "Look, I'd love to go over the sordid family history with you, but I really need to get in there with my son."

He studies the other man for a moment. Richard has been very forthcoming up to this point, and now Raylan's lawman instincts are kicking in, wondering what it is he's reluctant to share.

Glancing in the rearview mirror, he notices a late model Mercedes convertible pulling in to the precinct lot. The license plate reads L8 4 CRT.

"Looks like your lawyer's here. Let's go."

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

"Mama?"

"What, baby?" She'd been ready to slip out, thinking Willa was finally asleep. They're both unsettled by the evening's events, and it took longer than usual to get her bathed and into bed. A half-hour later she's still wide-awake.

"If I tell you something, do you promise not to get mad?" Her eyes are huge and serious.

Winona nods. "I promise."

Willa chews her lip and hugs Mr. Bear, her forehead wrinkled with worry.

"It's okay, Punkin'. Whatever it is, I won't be mad, promise." She crosses her heart.

"The other day," Willa says. "When you were 'cross the street?"

"Uh-huh." Winona had gone over to deliver some mail to their neighbor that had mistakenly ended up in their box. Willa had been in her room and Tommy in his, with the door shut, of course. She'd ended up chatting longer than she expected, when she got back, Willa was on the living room couch with Mr. Bear. It struck her as odd, and Winona felt her forehead to see if she had a fever, but it was cool and Willa insisted she was fine. Still, she hadn't eaten much dinner.

"I saw Tommy coming out of your bedroom."

"You did?" Winona says. "What was he doing in there?"

"I don't know." Willa says. "He saw me, too and he said that if I told anyone Mr. Bear would disappear and I'd never see him again." She squeezes her stuffed friend extra hard.

Winona wraps her arms around her daughter. "Oh, Honey!" She says, kissing her forehead. "I promise Tommy isn't going to get anywhere near Mr. Bear." _Or you._

"Promise?" Willa says. She looks close to tears. "I was gonna leave him at Daddy's so he'd be safe, but I'd miss him at night."

"Don't you worry about it anymore. You and Mr. Bear are safe right here."

"Is Tommy going to jail?"

"I don't know, sweetheart."

"I hope he goes to jail."

 _Me, too._ Winona thinks.

Later, she wakes with a start, almost falling off Willa's narrow bed. She lies there for a few minutes, collecting herself, listening to her baby girl breathe. All she remembers after Willa told her about Tommy's threat is finishing the third bedtime story, then turning out the light and stroking the little girl's soft curls. That's it. She must've fallen asleep too.

Getting up carefully so as not to wake her, she leaves Willa's door slightly ajar and quietly steps out into the hall. She pulls her cell phone out of her pocket. It's only a little after nine, although it seems later. There are no messages from Richard or Raylan, but she knows the legal wheels turn slowly, especially at night.

She picks up the clothesbasket still sitting in the hall outside Tommy's room and carries it back into the laundry, setting it on top of the washer. Walking back down the hall, she tries the knob again, jiggling it harder. She's curious. It would be nice to know what else he's got in there. She squats down and looks at the lock.

When they were teenagers, after their parents divorced, she and Gayle shared a bedroom in the tiny apartment their mother rented. Although the two of them had always gotten along, in this new environment they had knock-down drag-out fights at least once a week. There was yelling, things were thrown and broken, and doors were slammed.

With a high-maintenance adult woman and two high school girls the one bathroom was in great demand. Gayle's favorite trick was to get up before her sister in the morning – not difficult to do since Winona loved sleeping until the last possible moment – then lock the bathroom door. It was a source of great frustration to Winona, until she discovered she could pick the bathroom lock with a paperclip.

"I wonder if that trick will work on this lock?" Winona murmurs out loud. In the bedroom, she sifts through the top drawer of Richard's dresser, where he tosses everything. Sure enough, there's a paper clip. In a matter of minutes the door is open and she's in Tommy's room.

It's surprisingly neat for the bedroom of a teenage boy, from what she knows of teenage boys, anyway. Tommy seems to have inherited his father's neat streak. Richard is always picking up after her and Willa.

Winona stands in the doorway and scans the room. Nothing seems out of the ordinary. Feeling slightly guilty, she slides open the top dresser drawer - nothing but t-shirts and underwear. The second drawer has more t-shirts, colorful ones, and several pairs of shorts. She lifts the clothing, running her hand underneath. She pulls out a photograph of a woman and a little boy, obviously a much younger Tomás.

The woman is blonde, but there are darker roots showing. She has her too-thin arms around the boy and he's looking up at her. They're both smiling, although the woman's smile doesn't reach her eyes. This must be Gina. It's the only picture Winona has ever seen of Richard's ex. He doesn't talk about her. All she knows is that they were never married and that Gina took off with Tomás when the boy was only two. They ended up with her parents, and when Gina took off again, they filed for custody. Richard hadn't fought them. He'd never really explained why to Winona and she hadn't questioned it.

Now it seems like a giant red flag she's ignored.

"I really know how to pick 'em," she says to the empty room.

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

She's half-asleep on the couch when she hears the car door slam and Richard's key in the lock. Raylan's headlights flash through the window as he pulls away. She wishes he had come in. She's not at all anxious to be alone with her husband.

When he opens the door, Richard's shirt is untucked and his eyes are red and bloodshot. She sits up, but makes no move to go to him. "How'd it go?"

"Thanks to Kit and Raylan, he's not in juvie. They're keeping him in a holding cell at the precinct until he can be arraigned tomorrow. Kit thinks he can get him released to my custody."

"That's good news."

"Nothing about this is good."

She knows it's cruel to lay anything else on Richard, but she's furious and Tommy isn't here to get the well-deserved brunt of her anger.

"He threatened Willa."

"Threatened her? How? Why?" Richard goes to the liquor cabinet and pours himself a scotch, drinking half of it in one swallow as he walks back toward Winona.

She feels small sitting on the couch while he's standing, so she pushes to her feet, crossing her arms over her chest. "She told me tonight. The other day she caught him coming out of our bedroom and he told her that if she told anyone Mr. Bear would disappear and she'd never see him again."

Richard throws back the rest of the scotch and stares at her. "Come on, Winona, he threatened a _teddy bear_ , not Willa."

Her mouth opens and shuts. No words come out. She's stunned at his reaction. She knows he cares for Willa. For two years he's cuddled with her, read her bedtime stories, taken her to the zoo. He's been more of a father to Willa than he has to his own son. Maybe that's the problem. He's neglected Tomás, or feels like he has, so now he has to take his side. But he has to know she's always going to be on Willa's side.

"Willa's been carrying that damn bear around for a week refusing to leave it at home! He made her keep a secret from me. She's been scared to death."

"It's a stuffed animal. What's the big deal?" He pours himself another drink. She's never seen him like this.

"I'm not going to have her in the same house with him," Winona says. Stalking out of the living room, she goes to the kitchen and pours a glass of wine. She closes her eyes and takes a sip.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Richard is standing not a foot away when she opens her eyes. "It means," she takes another sip. "If Tommy comes back here, I think it would be best if Willa was at Raylan's, or if I take her to my mother's."

"What the hell?" Richard slams the glass down on the counter. " _If_ he comes back? Where else is he going to go? What am I supposed to do? He's my son. You want me to just send him back? Make it all go away?"

"I'm not telling you to send him back. I know he's your son. But you never even told me he was having problems! I know next to nothing about this boy who's been living in my house. Before he got here I kept asking you how long he was staying and you couldn't tell me. Tell me now, Richard. How long were you planning on having him here, before all this happened?"

He looks at the floor.

"Richard?"

"I was thinking of filing for custody."

"Full custody?"

"Yes. I talked to Carson about it."

She drinks the rest of the wine. "But you didn't talk to me?"

"He's been expelled from that fancy private school. He'd been having problems. I thought maybe living here, with us, with a family, would be good for him. I was going to talk to you about it but..."

She sets a hand on her hip and glares at him. "But what? This is a major decision, Richard! We're married. We're supposed to confide in one another."

He laughs, a harsh bark, and her stomach does a flip. He knows.

"You really want to go there right now, Winona?" He narrows his dark eyes at her, confirming her suspicions.

She backpedals. "Don't you want to know what he was doing in our bedroom?" After snooping through Tommy's things, she'd gone into their bedroom, wondering what Tommy possibly could've been doing in there.

"Nice change of subject." He laughs again. Slinging down the last of the scotch, he heads back to the bar for more. "Kids are curious. They snoop."

She pouts another glass of wine and raises her voice so he can hear. "You know how I always leave my diamond earrings on the dresser? The ones you got me last Christmas? Well, they're missing. And, your grandfather's pocket watch is gone, too. Didn't you keep it in the top drawer?"

Richard comes back into the kitchen and sits heavily on a barstool. "Well. So that's where the money came from."

"I thought he was selling his medication." She relaxes a little. Maybe they aren't going to have this out tonight. Richard is right, she really doesn't want to go there, not right now. Not with everything else that's happening.

"He denied it. None of us believed him, of course, because of the money, and he wouldn't say where he'd gotten it." Richard looks at her for a long moment and then pushes the glass of scotch away. "He must've sold the earrings and that watch. Dammit."

"Where?"

"Probably a pawn shop."

"How would he find a pawn shop?"

"You can find anything on the internet these days."

Winona is still skeptical. "Do you think a pawn shop would buy diamond earrings from a thirteen-year-old?"

Richard shrugs. "He kept insisting he hadn't sold any of his pills. I guess I should've believed him. He was going to use the money for a bus ticket to Santa Fe. He thinks he's found his mother." He shakes his head slowly. "For all the good that will do him."

He makes a fist, pounds it twice on the counter, then reaches for the glass and drinks the entire contents in one swallow.

"I think you're right. You and Willa _should_ be gone when he gets home." An unpleasant smirk turns up his mouth. The last thing Tomás needs is another faithless woman who's going to run out on him. That's the last thing I need, too."

"Richard, I..."

"Look, Winona. I don't care what your reasons are or what lies you tell yourself to make you feel better. You fucked him. You threw our marriage vows away to fuck your ex-husband." His tone is sharp and bitter. "I should've seen it coming, but honestly, I didn't."

She has nothing to say. She doesn't even try _I'm sorry_ because, if she's honest with herself, she's not sure it's true.


	7. Chapter 7

"Givens, get in here," Dan Grant calls to Raylan as soon as he enters the Marshals' office in the morning. "Where the hell have you been?"

Raylan slips the phone from his pocket and glances at it. _Shit._ He missed two calls from Dan on his way in. He must've forgotten to turn the ringer back on after he'd left the precinct with Richard last night. There's a message from Winona, too, but no time to listen to it. Sutter, Muñoz, and the others, including two guys in dark gray suits that scream FBI, are already in the glass-enclosed conference room.

"What's goin' on?" Raylan says. He slips in beside Sutter, who gives him a grim look and a shrug of his broad shoulders.

"Nothing good."

Dan comes around the conference table. "The Federal prosecutor is moving up the trial of Denny Cabrizzio."

"Shit," Sutter mutters. "This is gonna be a bear."

"You got that right," Dan says. "Word is, Cabrizzio is invoking his right to a speedy trial, so you can bet he has something up his sleeve."

Raylan agrees. Dennis Cabrizzio was a high-ranking Miami police officer, possibly in line to be the next chief, when he was brought down six months ago in an FBI sting linking him to several Miami drug cartels, including the one still being run by Gio Reyes. Now, Cabrizzo is being brought to trial, and that means security will be pushed to the highest level for the entire courthouse.

"The FBI is handling the defendant and his family. We're going to be covering security for two witnesses, the prosecutors, and the judge. Raylan, you're on Judge Walker. It's a personal request. He picked you, for whatever reason. With Ricker out with his damn rotator cuff we're short-handed so this is twelve on, twelve off for the duration, probably 3-4 weeks. Richards will take the opposite shift. You can work it out with him and the judge."

Dan goes on to make assignments for the others, leaving Raylan making quick calculations on how to budget his time in order to see as much of Willa as possible. This all couldn't have come at a worse time. He knows Winona is already uneasy about everything going on with Richard and Tomás. And he's not at all happy with the way Richard was talking to her, even in front of him and the cops. The man has always seemed on an even keel, but this thing with his son seems to have pushed him over an edge.

Raylan's familiar with barely contained anger, and Richard is full to bursting with it.

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

"Mama?"

A finger pokes her and Winona rolls over, throwing an arm across her face. Her head is pounding. She opens one eye. Willa's face is inches away.

"I'm hungry."

The thought of food makes her stomach roll unpleasantly, but she gets up. Slowly. She grabs the yoga pants and sweatshirt hanging on the closet hook and pulls them on.

"Come on, then," she says to her daughter.

In the kitchen she reaches into the cupboard for the coffee.

"What do you want to eat?" She asks.

"Waffles!" Willa claps her hands making Winona wince. Her head feels as if it's going to explode.

The house is empty. She peeks into the garage. Richard's car is gone. She doesn't know if he even slept here last night, although he was way too drunk to drive.

After their argument, while Richard finished off the scotch, she'd snatched Willa up from her bed, still sleeping, and gone to their bedroom, locking the door behind her. She tucked the little into Richard's side of their king bed and drank the last of the bottle of wine while she watched her daughter sleep.

Now she swallows four Advil, pops two frozen waffles into the toaster, and puts the coffee on to brew. While she waits she tries Raylan but it goes to voicemail. She has too much to say to leave a message, so she just says, "Call me." and hangs up.

She pours a glass of milk for Willa and heats the syrup in the microwave. The waffles pop up and Willa scrambles onto the stool to grab them and put them on the plate.

"Careful," Winona warns. "Don't burn yourself."

She lets Willa carry the plate to the table while she pours her coffee.

"Where's Richard?" Willa asks with a mouthful of waffle. Under the table, her legs are kicking as she eats.

"Probably checking on Tommy," Winona says, carefully sipping the hot coffee. She's not looking forward to their next conversation. She's pretty sure she isn't going to like what he says.

Sun is streaming in through the window promising another beautiful day. The last thing she wants to do is sit around the house waiting for Richard to show up with Tommy, or go to work and worry about what she'll find when she gets home.

She smiles at Willa. "How about you and I go to the beach?"

"Can we?" Willa cocks her head and spears another bit of waffle with her fork. "Don't you hafta go to work?"

Winona shakes her head. "Not today." She'll call Laurel in a few minutes and beg off coming in. She only works three days a week, tops, and there aren't any depositions scheduled for today anyway. Maybe a little ocean air will clear her mind.

"Why don't you drink your milk and then go get into your suit? Don't forget to brush your teeth."

"Okay," Willa stops on her way past to crawl up and wrap her arms around her mother's neck. "I love you, Mama."

"Love you, too, punkin'." Willa pads away and Winona wraps both hands around the coffee cup, staring at her phone. Maybe she should call Richard. Get it over with. They said some pretty ugly things to each other. Things they can't take back.

She takes a sip of coffee and shakes her head at the irony. One of the reasons she'd left Raylan was so that Willa wouldn't have to go through the trauma of divorce the way she had. Now it looked like that was exactly what was going to happen. Of course Willa wasn't a teenager, like Winona and Gayle had been, and she wouldn't have to split her time between her mother and Richard. She probably won't see him at all if they divorce, but that will hurt, too. Willa is attached to Richard. They've had a good relationship. It looks like all Winona's best intentions for her daughter have gone up in smoke.

Sighing, she slides the phone on and scrolls to Richard's number. She types: _We should talk._ But she doesn't hit send. Instead, she calls Raylan again. This time, he answers on the second ring.

"Richard knows."

"Well, that's quite an opening line," Raylan says.

"This isn't funny." She sets her coffee down and picks up Willa's breakfast dishes, sticking them in the dishwasher without rinsing them off. _Take that, Richard._

"I kinda thought he might be suspicious, the way he was actin'."

Willa comes bouncing down the stairs in her swimsuit, all smiles. Winona turns on the TV, finds the cartoon network and plops her down in front of it, then heads upstairs to change.

"Did he say anything to you?" She opens a drawer, sifting through the swimsuits. Choosing a turquoise tankini, she strips, holding the phone between her neck and shoulder.

"No, it was more a feeling I got." She can tell Raylan's in cop mode. "He seemed pretty pissed off. He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"Not unless you count telling me the truth." She sighs, sitting on the bed, the swimsuit wadded into a ball on her lap. "The truth is, I hurt him."

" _We_ hurt him." He corrects her.

"I'm the serial adulteress here, so I think your guilt is misplaced."

"Winona..."

"Don't make excuses for me, Raylan. I think it's time we both stopped doing that."

There's a long stretch of silence. "Well, okay then," he says. Then, softly, "Are you gonna be alright?"

She hears all the questions he isn't asking. What does this mean for her and Richard? What does this mean for them? She can't answer either of those right now, so she sticks with what she's sure about. Her daughter's life needs to stay as normal as possible, no matter what happens.

"I'm going to take Willa to the beach today. Do you want to pick her up later, or should I drop her off?"

"Um, about that," Raylan says. He tells her about working security for some judge for the next few weeks, but the details go past her.

"So you aren't going to be able to see her? She's going to be so disappointed."

He sighs. "I'll get her tonight. We aren't startin' until tomorrow. I'm gonna do my best to see her, especially considerin'," he says. "Scott Richards and I are supposed to work out a schedule with the judge. I'm sure he'll understand I wanna see my little girl."

"There's something else, Raylan," Winona says. She knows this won't go over well, but she can't think of a way to make it sound less frightening.

"Tommy threatened Willa."

"What the hell?!"

She tells him about what Willa said, the threat to Mr. Bear, and her missing earrings. "And Richard seems to think it's no big deal."

"Well he's wrong. The kid's a fuckin' sociopath threatening a preschooler's teddy bear for Christ's sake. Who does he think he is, Don Corleone?"

She swallows. "I told him I didn't want Tommy around Willa."

"Good thinkin'. What did he say?"

She wads the suit into an even tighter ball. "He basically told me that Tommy isn't going anywhere and to get out if I didn't like it. I guess I'll call Mama..." her voice trails off.

"Look," Raylan says. "I'm not gonna be home that much what with guarding Judge Walker. You and Willa could stay at my place."

She's not sure it's a good idea, but the thought of calling her mother and having to relay the details of what's going on is worse. "Are you sure we wouldn't be cramping your style?"

He chuckles. "Is that your way of askin' me if I'm seein' anyone?"

"No!" Even though he's not there to see it, she flushes. "I just don't want to put you out."

"Like I said, I'm not gonna be home that much."

"What am I going to tell Willa?"

"Tell her the truth," Raylan says. "That you don't want her around Tommy."

She wriggles into the bathing suit bottoms. "This is all so unbelievable. They really had fun together last summer."

"Listen, I gotta go. You still got the spare key to my place?"

"I think so."

"I'll text you the garage door code, just in case," he says. "Go over any time. I'll get home when I can."

"Thanks, Cowboy. I owe you."

"Yeah, ya do."

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

As Raylan nears the end of his inspection of the judge's chambers at the federal courthouse, he notices a narrower than normal door in one corner of the waiting area. It's not on his blueprint. He tries the knob, but it's locked.

He glances at the secretary's nameplate and flashes her a smile. ""Where does this go, Joanna?"

"That's the panic room."

"Probably shouldn't be locked then."

She gives a weak smile.

He waves the paper. "Why isn't it on here? Seems like that would be kind of an important detail."

Joanna gets up and walks over. She's about thirty, blonde, with wide-set brown eyes, and she's tiny. Even in her heels, she only comes up to his shoulder. She peers at the blueprint and scowls. She points at a handwritten date barely legible in the bottom corner of the blueprint.

"There's your problem."

"What?"

"Who gave you this? It's only three years old, but we had a whole renovation since then. I breathed plaster for a year. Just a minute." She goes to her computer and starts tapping on keys.

Raylan follows her back to her desk, looking over her shoulder. There's a framed photo of an auburn-haired man and two blonde boys.

"Twins?" Raylan says.

"Yes," Joanna beams. "That's Jake and Jasper. They're almost six."

"Same age as my daughter, Willa."

"It's a great age," Joanna says, continuing to tap keys. "There you go," she says. "Let me print this out."

"The Dade county engineer's office gave us these."

"Well, someone screwed up." She points to the blue print. "There are new entrances here and here since the renovations, and a second hidden emergency exit from the main courtroom here." She indicates. "All the judges have panic rooms and I'm pretty sure the prosecutor's office does, too."

"I'll be right back for that print out," Raylan says. He slips out into the hallway and punches in Dan's contact on his phone.

"I think the engineer's office is compromised." Raylan says when his boss answers. He tells Dan about the apparent mistake with the blueprint.

"It _could_ be an honest mistake," Dan says.

"Yeah, but..."

"You don't think so?"

"It'd sure give someone an advantage if they knew about exits and secret rooms that we didn't."

"It would." Dan is silent for a moment. "Anyone know besides you and the judge's secretary?"

"Nope."

"Let's keep it that way. Tell the other guys, of course. Can she print you out plans for the other offices, too?"

"Already on it."


	8. Chapter 8

"Don't go in the water without me," Winona says as Willa takes off running through the sand swinging her pail.

Winona sits back in the low chair, one eye on Willa as she scrounges through the bag on her lap for her sunscreen. She already slathered waterproof kids' sun block all over Willa before they left the house. She pulls off her sunglasses and reaches deeper into the bag, coming up with the half-empty bottle. God only knows how long it's been in there. She isn't as conscientious about wearing it as she should be. She smoothes it thick over her arms and chest, but puts a lighter coat on her legs, hoping a few rays sneak through.

It's a weekday, and the beach isn't crowded. Vacationers usually choose the more populated and trendy beaches south of here and most of the Florida natives Winona knows rarely go to the beach at all. Willa loves the water, though, and she tries to bring her every other week or so. They swim a little if it's warm and calm enough, and walk along the edge of the water if it's rough or too cold to go in. Willa has a growing shell collection in a basket in her room.

Satisfied that Willa is parked several feet away from the reach of the waves, Winona tucks the sunscreen back in her bag and opens her book.

When she looks up again, there's a tall bearded man in a gaudy beach hat and a small boy standing near Willa. The man is waving. She shades her eyes with her hand and squints to see more clearly, and then pushes up out of the chair, wrapping the towel around her waist like a sarong.

"Father Theo?" She hardly recognized the priest in the hat, red swim trunks, and Jimmy Buffet t-shirt. She walks toward him and the children, now playing together with Willa's sand bucket and shovel.

"Hey," the priest says. "Nice day, isn't it?"

She looks at the boy and back to Father Theo, whose eyes twinkle.

"No, I'm not secretly married with children." He laughs, showing straight white teeth. "This is my nephew, Max. My sister and my nieces are back up the beach a ways. Max is our wanderer. He likes to walk and look for shells and crawling things."

Winona smiles down at Willa and her new friend. "They're a perfect match."

"I noticed that you pulled Willa out of First Communion classes," Father Theo says.

"I did." She nods. "Her father wasn't thrilled with the idea. He thinks she's too young. He wants to wait until she's older and able to decide for herself." She shifts her weight from one foot to the other digging her toes into the sand.

"Isn't it a parent's job to make some of those choices for their children?"

"Yes, but I think Raylan has as much a right to do that as I do," Winona says. "He _is_ her father."

The priest squats in the sand, watching as his nephew runs toward the water to fill the bucket. "So you have a good relationship with him?"

"I do and so does Willa."

Max returns, running back and abruptly dumping the contents of the bucket all over the beginnings of the sandcastle Willa was carefully constructing. The little girl stares at the wet mess running in dark rivulets back toward the water.

"No!" She yells. Her face turns red and she picks up the shovel, smacking him on the arm.

"Willa!" Winona kneels down. Taking the shovel from her daughter's hand she grabs both the girl's wrists gently but firmly and looks her in the eye. "We do not hit people."

"But he ruined it!" Willa sobs. She throws herself at Winona who gathers her in.

"I'm so sorry," she says, looking up at Father Theo.

"Max," he says sternly. "That wasn't nice. You need to apologize. Now."

"Sorry," Max says in a sing-song voice.

"You need to apologize, too," Winona tells her daughter.

Willa shakes her head still holding onto her mother.

"Willa Grace."

"I'm sorry I hit you," she says, almost a whisper.

"Your apology didn't sound very sincere, Maxwell," Father Theo says.

Max looks up at his uncle for a moment, then he leans over, peering at Willa. "I'm sorry I ruined your castle. I'll help you build it again if you want."

"No!" Willa turns her head. "Go away."

"Willa, come on," Winona coaxes. "He said he's sorry."

After a few minutes, Willa peels herself away from her mother, still pouting, and tentatively reaches for the bucket. Max hands it over and she kneels, scooping up sand and packing it down inside. With Winona and Father Theo watching, the two start building another structure, Max wisely taking his directions from Willa.

The two adults watch for any signs of conflict, but the kids seem to already have forgotten what happened a few minutes ago.

Father Theo chuckles. "Too bad adults can't solve their disagreements as easily."

"That would be nice," Winona agrees.

"Richard was at morning mass today," Father Theo says.

Winona takes a step back, wrapping her arms around herself. She looks out at the water, not at Father Theo.

"He was upset. He told me about Tomás – Tommy." The priest continues. "I said I would go talk to the boy later today."

"I'm sure that's not all he told you." She digs her fingers into her arms so hard she might have bruises. Maybe she deserves them.

Father Theo stuffs his hands into the pockets of his swim shorts. "Relationships are complicated, especially marriage."

She presses her lips together and barely resists the urge to roll her eyes. She's always thought forbidding priests to marry was not only silly, but also dangerous. How could he counsel couples when he couldn't possibly know what married life was like?

Father Theo must be used to that reaction. "You aren't the only one who thinks a priest can't know about that, but you'd be wrong. First thing, I'm human and I wasn't always a priest. I've been in love, and I've had sex. I know how powerful those emotions can be. Second, I _have_ been a priest for almost twenty years. I've heard thousands of confessions and done hours of counseling. Like I told you before, I'm a good listener. And I don't judge. That's up to my boss. And he's pretty understanding."

When she doesn't respond, he sighs. "Can I say one thing?"

Winona gives a tight nod.

"I'll tell you the same thing I told Richard. Take some time for yourself to think things through before you make any major decisions."

It's sound advice, she knows.

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

It's after nine when Raylan pulls into the condo's two stall garage. Winona's Volvo is already parked inside, and, not used to making room; he has to back up twice to be able to open the driver's side door wide enough to squeeze out. He looks at the car and shakes his head. She never could park straight. Sliding out, he grabs the hat from the passenger seat.

The lingering aroma of something good hits him as he walks into the kitchen. He tosses the hat on the counter and opens the fridge. There are three take-out boxes from Dimetrios on the top shelf.

"There's fettuccini alfredo and spaghetti." Winona's voice startles him and he turns around, box in his hand. "You can guess who had what." She smiles. She's wearing white capris and a bright pink tank with no bra. Her hair is pulled back in a loose bun and her face is flushed from the day at the beach.

"There's salad in there, too," she says. "I got enough for you."

He's tired, and this is a familiar scene, played out many times over the course of their relationship. Maybe that's why he hears an accusation woven into her innocent words.

"I toldja I didn't know when I'd be home."

She sighs. "I know that, Raylan, I'm not mad. I just wanted you to have something to eat because I know you forget to eat when you're working."

"Yeah, I do miss Gutterson. He always reminded me." He opens the fridge again and takes out a beer. "You just got here and we're already pickin' at each other." He pops the cap and takes a swig. "Sorry. It's been a long day."

She reaches out for the box. "I'll get a plate and warm that up."

"Thanks."

She presses a palm between his shoulder blades. "Go kiss Willa goodnight. I just put her down so she's probably still awake."

"Isn't it past her bedtime?" He takes another long pull on the beer, finishing it.

"I let her stay up." Winona shrugs. "We watched Finding Nemo."

"For the hundredth time," he quips. He pops the cap on a second beer before treading quietly down the hall and pushing open the door to his daughter's room.

"Daddy?" Her voice is sleepy.

"Hey Willa-bee. Why aren't you asleep?" He squats next to the bed, finding her eyes in the dark.

"I wanted to say goodnight." She yawns.

He runs a hand over her hair. "Ya know, I gotta lot goin' on at work right now. I might not be gettin' home until after your bedtime some nights. So sometimes, you're gonna have to go to sleep anyway."

"Mama said you could text me on her phone."

He chuckles at Winona's solution. "I could do that." Leaning in, he tucks the covers close around her and plants a kiss on her cheek. "You go to sleep now, okay?"

"Okay."

"G'night."

"Daddy?"

"Yes, Willa?" He answers in a tone that he hopes says 'go to sleep'.

"Are we gonna live here with you?"

He presses a thumb to his temple to quell a budding headache. "For awhile, yeah."

"Until Tommy goes to jail?"

Sighing, he sits down on the edge of the bed. "He might not go to jail, Honey. He's a juven...a kid, and the court might just decide he needs to be in a special school, or check in with a counselor."

She squeezes Mr. Bear so hard Raylan is surprised the stuffing doesn't pop out. "I think he should go to jail."

"He was wrong to tell you to keep a secret." He swallows hard. "He didn't ask you to keep any other secrets, did he?" If the kid has done anything to hurt Willa, Raylan will kill him and maybe Richard, too, and gladly go to jail.

Willa shakes her head. "No, Daddy."

"You'd tell me if he had, right? There's nothing to be afraid of now and Mama and me wouldn't be mad."

Willa nods.

 _Thank God._ "Good. Now, you need to go to sleep." He kisses her again and she wraps her arms around his neck, pressing her soft cheek to his.

"I love you, Daddy."

He hugs her back. "Me, too."

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

Raylan pushes the plate away. He finished her fettuccini _and_ Willa's spaghetti, but only picked at the salad. Now he picks up his third beer and finishes it, too.

She has her elbow on the table her chin resting in her hand. "So how long will this trial take?"

"All depends," he says. "The prosecution has a pretty strong case, maybe once it's all laid out Cabrizzo will cop a plea. But, his lawyers have seen all the evidence and he hasn't yet, so he must figure he can beat the rap."

"Or rig the jury?"

"With the cartels, that's always a possibility." He sighs. "Or they might try to stage something and go for a mistrial. Judge Walker is a piece of work. Independent cuss, didn't want protection at all. Only agreed to it because of his wife. I have a feeling he's going to try to ditch us at some point."

Still nursing her first beer, Winona takes a sip, even though it's getting warm.

"Did you hear anything from Richard today?" He says, finally acknowledging the elephant in the room. He gets up from the table and takes his plate and rinses it off in the sink.

She shakes her head. "I texted him, asked about Tommy, but he didn't text back. I don't even know if he was arraigned." She pushes her chair back and follows him into the kitchen.

"I could check. There's a website I have access to that lists all the proceedings."

"Do you mind?"

"Nope. I'm kinda curious myself."

In the spare bedroom he uses as an office, Raylan fires up the laptop. Winona perches on the edge of the futon waiting for it to go online.

"Here we go," Raylan says. He types in the web address, his ID and password. Scrolling down he clicks on something and another screen pops up. "He was arraigned and pled no contest. So they released him to parental custody pending sentencing." He reads further. "Huh. Carson Sullivan, is that his grandfather from Philadelphia?"

"Yes, why?" She's talked briefly to Carson on the phone, but she's never met him.

"Kit wasn't the attorney of record. Grandpa must've brought in someone else – here it is - Katrina Harris - she got Tommy released to _Carson's_ custody, not Richard's."

Winona gets up and peers over Raylan's shoulder. "Wow. I bet Richard is furious."

"Don't Tommy's grandparents have primary custody anyway?"

Winona nods. "Yeah. Kinda weird, huh?"

Raylan closes the browser and shuts the laptop. "He started to tell me a little about it last night, but he clammed up before I got the whole story. I figured you'd know more."

"Not really," she says. "We never talk about Gina and Tommy always seemed to be a sore subject, unless he was coming to visit, so I avoided it." She sits back, crossing her legs. "I wondered about the arrangement, but he was so good with Willa that I didn't worry too much about it." She yawns. "Sorry, I didn't sleep very well last night."

"You get settled in? Find everything okay? Towels?"

"I got one." She reaches behind her and comes up with a folded towel.

"There's hangers in the closet if you brought anything you need to hang up." He leans in the doorway. "Ya don't have to sleep on this lumpy thing. I toldja you could have the bed and I'd sleep in here."

"I'm not kicking you out of your bed," she says. "I'm putting you out enough already."

"Ya aren't puttin' me out. You're my family, you and Willa." He tips his chin down. "She asked me if you were gonna live here now."

"I told her it was just because of Tommy," Winona says. "But if he's with his grandfather..." She bites her lip.

"What, you thinkin' about goin' back?"

He crosses his arms over his chest and levels that cool gaze at her, the one that always makes her feel like one of his fugitives. She wishes there was a neutral place to get away from both Richard's anger and Raylan's intensity, just for a little while. As she sits on the futon, trying not to squirm under his gaze, a thought pops into her head.

"Maybe I should go visit Gayle. She's been wanting me to come, and with you working, I wouldn't have to worry that you're missing your time with Willa."

Now that she's voicing it, it seems like the perfect solution, but Raylan looks skeptical.

"You could still talk to her everyday and we wouldn't stay long, maybe a week. Can I use your computer to look for a cheap flight?"

"Sure," he says. "But don't you think you should talk to Gayle first?"

Maybe she is getting ahead of herself. "You're probably right," she says. "But I know it will be okay with her. She really wants to see Willa, and we haven't had a good visit in a long time." It's true. Gayle has been to Florida a couple of times, but their mother managed to make those visits all about her, and the sisters hadn't had the time they wanted to reconnect.

She can tell Raylan is still pensive. The reason dawns on her as she looks at him. "You think I'm running away again, don't you?"

Without waiting for him to answer, she gets up off the bed and stands in front of him. "I'm not. For once I want to think about things. Really think and sort it all out with someone who knows me. And no one knows me better than Gayle."

"With your track record, ya can't blame me for bein' suspicious."

"Hey." Cupping his cheek in her hand she meets his eyes. "I'm not taking your little girl away from you. Whatever is going to happen next, I want to be sure about it. Don't you think that's a good idea?"

He throws his arm around her and pulls her close, murmuring into her hair. "Yeah, I guess I do."


	9. Chapter 9

Raylan wakes up and rolls over. There's a shaft of light coming under the door. He listens, but can't hear anything, so he throws the covers off, pulling on the gym shorts on the floor by the bed. The days of walking around in his underwear are behind him, at least when Willa is here.

The light is coming from the kitchen. Winona sits at the table in her UK t-shirt and shorty pajama bottoms, one leg curled under her. She's eating ice cream out of the carton with a big spoon.

He chuckles and she looks up, guilty. "Sorry, it was almost empty."

"Hey, I do it all the time."

She sticks her tongue out. "Funny." But it doesn't deter her from another scoop.

"What's goin' on?" Raylan says. "Can't sleep?"

"I'm so tired, but my mind just keeps spinning," she sighs. "Is this how you always felt? I never could understand your insomnia, but I do now. I just can't stop thinking."

He grabs another spoon from the drawer and pulls a chair up next to her, dipping it in and scooping out some of the partially melted treat. He drips on the table before making it to his mouth.

"At least I'm neater than you." Her lips curve into a smile.

He picks up the hem of his t-shirt and wipes it off. "Better?"

She rolls her eyes.

"Ya can talk to me, ya know. We didn't do such a bad job of it the other night."

Her face turns to his, and he hates seeing those blue eyes so clouded by worry. "It's all just such a mess," she says, blinking away tears.

"One thing I learned, spending all those hours wide awake? It's all a mess in the middle of the night." He reaches out and strokes her hair. "It'll all shake out in the daylight."

She leans into his hand. "The Raylan Givens School of Philosophy?"

"Not quite." He smiles. "I do know that havin' Willa to take care of, watchin' her and the way the world is just...wide open...full of possibilities and new stuff to see...it's harder to get in a funk when I'm around her."

Winona nods in agreement. "When I first gave up on getting to sleep I went to her room and just watched her for awhile." She presses her lips together and blinks back more tears. "She's pretty perfect when she's sleeping." A full smile breaks out, and then crumples. "I love her so much, Raylan, and I don't want to hurt or disappoint her."

He sucks air and blows it out. "I know, me, either. But here's the thing. She's gonna be hurt, and she's gonna be disappointed." He shrugs. "That's life. And sometimes, we're gonna be the ones deliverin' the blow. Hopefully not like our parents did..."

"Especially Mama," Winona says.

"Especially Arlo," he counters. "We'll be there for her. We're already doin' a good job. We're puttin' her first, and she's turnin' out to be quite a kid, don'tcha think?"

"Yes, for now. What about when she's a teenager and does something stupid?"

He knows she's thinking of Tomás. "All teenagers do stupid things," he says. "Hopefully she's smart enough not to be _too_ stupid. And anyway that's a long way off."

"I just want to set a good example, for her Raylan. And I haven't been a good example. I screw things up. I hurt people." She pushes the ice cream away and lowers her head into her hands. Her voice is muffled. "I hurt you, I hurt Richard. Hell, I hurt Gary, turns out he maybe deserved it, but still."

"Hey, hey," he says, wrapping an arm around her and tipping her chin up with the other hand. "I had a part in that. So did Gary. So did Richard. Ya didn't screw up all by yourself."

"Why don't you just get mad at me?" She looks up. "You never really do. Even when I stole that money..."

"That was a long time ago." He sighs. "Look, we had plenty of fights when we were married. I got angry. Ya said once I was the angriest man you ever knew, remember?"

"You were," she says. "But never at me." She flops back down, chin resting on her hands. "The ice cream is melting."

"It was almost empty anyway, remember?" He rubs her shoulder lightly for a few minutes before he speaks again.

"To be honest, I think I was afraid to get really mad at ya. Afraid I'd end up like Arlo, afraid I'd hit ya, or push ya into the wall." He takes a breath. "So I just stuffed it down." _And it came out in other ways._

She turns her head to rest her cheek on her hands so she can look up at him. "Sometimes I wanted to make you angry to get a reaction, just so I would have all your attention and feel important for a little while."

He scowls. "Ya were always important."

"Yeah? Well, I didn't feel like it."

Instead of arguing, or pressing his point, which would only keep them circling the same old shit, he leans down and kisses her forehead. "I'm sorry you felt that way."

The puddle of water from the melting ice cream carton starts to spread. He tips his chair back to grab a towel from the counter and wipe up the mess. Winona picks up the carton and carries it to the sink, rinsing it out and tossing it in the trash. She stands there, leaning back against the counter.

"Sleepy?" He swallows a yawn. He is, and he has to meet Richards at Judge Walker's gym across town by seven to take over.

"A little, maybe. Do you think..." She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "Never mind."

He cocks his head at her. "What?"

"Could I crawl in bed with you? I think I could sleep if you just hold me for a little while. No funny business." She gives him a trace of a smile.

"I think I could manage that," he says holding out a hand. "Come on."

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

Winona wakes with Raylan's arm around her and another, less innocent appendage pressing against her hip. "I thought we agreed no funny business," she says, giggling.

"Tell that to Mother Nature," he murmurs, his voice full of sleep. "You ain't movin' away."

"I'm on the edge of the bed as it is."

"Well, we could do something about it." His hand snakes upward from where it's wrapped around her waist, but she grabs it before he reaches his destination.

"We _could,_ " Winona says. "But we shouldn't. Having sex with you will just muddle my thinking even more."

"A blow job isn't really sex," he says, more awake now.

"I'll remind you of that when Willa's a teenager with her first boyfriend."

"And with that thought in my head," Raylan abruptly flops onto his back. "I am officially out of the mood." He looks over at her. "But I imagine that's what you were aimin' for."

He brushes the hair from her face. "You sleep okay?"

"I did," she says. "Thank you."

"Anytime." His eyes cloud over. "You still gonna call Gayle, see about goin' up for a visit'?"

"I'd like to." She rolls over to face him, supporting her head on her arm. "Like I said, just for a week, maybe not even that long. I've already taken a couple of days off. I can't really afford more, especially if..." She doesn't finish, but Raylan picks up on the meaning.

"You don't hafta worry about money. I'll take care of you and Willa."

"I appreciate that, and I know you will, but I need to be practical."

"You workin' today?"

"Yes. I need to shower and get Willa up. I'm taking her to Mama's on my way to work. Say a prayer that she doesn't ask me any questions."

"Done. Let me grab a quick one, then the bathroom is all yours." He slides her a grin. "Unless you want to save water and take one together."

She punches his shoulder as she slips away from him and out of the bed. "Nice, try, Cowboy."

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

The courthouse is buzzing with activity when Raylan arrives with Judge Walker. Reporters have already gathered in anticipation of the trial, even though jury selection won't start until tomorrow. Raylan spots Munõz with the prosecutor and the two FBI agents as he's ushering the judge through the back entrance and to the elevators.

"Do I get to piss by myself?" The man mutters once the doors close.

"Yep. After I check out the bathroom."

Walker gives a dismissive snort and doesn't turn his head to look at Raylan. The former Navy man and JAG lawyer stands ramrod straight, head bent to his cell phone. He's about three inches shorter than Raylan and all muscle under his dark gray Armani suit. Mostly bald, there's more hair in his bushy eyebrows than on the fringe around his scalp.

The door opens, and Raylan steps ahead of the judge into the hallway, and then beckons him.

The judge walks beside him, still looking at his phone. "I have a speaking engagement at a luncheon today at the Metropolitan Club. I suppose you'll have to be my shadow?"

"Yes," Raylan says. "And I'll need to go in ahead of you and check it out, just like I did at your gym this morning."

"This is ridiculous." The judge has his hand on the doorknob to his outer office and Raylan has to grab his arm to stop him from opening it.

"I go in first," he says.

"Good God. Look, Joanna is already here."

Raylan whirls around to him. "Yeah, she's here," he says, barely keeping his tone civil. "But some cartel goon might have a gun to her head, or a bomb strapped to her chair, or any number of things. So, I go first. That's my job. Now let me do my goddamn job."

The judge takes a step back and Raylan enters the office first.

"Good morning!" Joanna says, brightly. She hops up from her desk with two sheets of paper. "Here's the judge's schedule, just like you asked for. Would you rather I mailed you the next day's schedule the night before? I can do that."

"That would be great," Raylan says. After spending the last few hours watching the sullen judge run on the treadmill, and bench press twice his weight, Joanna is a ray of sunshine.

She hands the other sheet of paper to the judge. "Heinz wants to go over pre-trial motions with you and Dan Pembroke's mother is sick. He's on a plane to Arizona right now."

"Well, shit," the judge says. "Who's on the sub list?"

Raylan butts in. "Who's Dan Pembroke?"

"Judge Walker's clerk," Joanna says. "Nice man. Bachelor. Still lives with his mother."

"In Arizona?" Raylan flashes her a grin.

"Oh, no," Joanna says quickly. "I guess she was visiting some friends and fell ill. Dan was pretty broken up when he called."

It's probably nothing, but it's a big enough coincidence that Raylan's radar is going off. "What's his mother's name?"

"Um," Joanna casts her eyes up and her nose wrinkles. "I'm not sure. But it would be in his file. Want me to check?"

"If you could, thanks." Raylan's eyes take in the room, looking for anything unusual or out of place.

"Can I go into my office now?" Judge Walker says. He's stopped outside the heavy oak door to his chambers.

Raylan opens it and makes a quick round of the room, including the closet holding the judges robes, two pressed white shirts still in their dry cleaning bags, another dark gray suit and a cashmere cardigan sweater in Navy blue and gold.

"All clear."

The judge gives him a sideways glance as he steps by him into "Now can you shut that door and give me some privacy in my own office?"

Wordlessly Raylan closes the door, stepping back into the outer room with Joanna.

"Yes," she says without prompting. "He's always like this when his routine is disrupted." She flashes a smile. "And you have definitely disrupted his routine."

"Just doin' my job," Raylan says.

Her brow furrows. "Do you really think they'd come after the judge?"

"More likely the prosecution witnesses, but ya never know with the cartels. Better safe than sorry."

"Dan's mother's name is Roberta Pembroke."

"Thanks," Raylan texts the name to Stansfield back at the Marshals office, asking him to do a check on it and let him know if anything sets off alarms.

He paces a rectangle in front of Joanna's desk. Ten steps across and seven steps back, ten more steps and so on. After a bit, sensing that he's making the woman nervous, he sits in one of the uncomfortable chairs against the wall, crossing one leg over the other and pulling out his phone. The thing he hates most about protection assignments is the boredom when everything is secure. Usually he brings a book, but with Winona rushing around the condo this morning in various states of undress and Willa trailing after him asking questions, he was a little distracted and forgot to grab the latest cast-off from Tim off the nightstand. Maybe he should try Willa's zombie game on his phone.

The door opens and a girl comes in, younger than Joanna, with long dark hair and a very short skirt. He appreciates the view while at the same time thinking Willa had better never wear a skirt that short. Maybe he's getting old.

"Hi Ashley," Joanna says. She taps a brown box. "These need to go in the file room, and these," she pulls a short stack of colored files from her drawer. "Need to go to Judge Abrams. Also, could you get me the latest sub list for clerks? I need to know who's available ASAP."

"Got it," Ashley says. She gives Raylan a sideways glance.

"This is Deputy U.S. Marshal Ryan Givens," Joanna says. "He's the judge's shadow during the Cabrrizzi trial. This is Ashley Elliot, our intern. She's studying to be a paralegal."

"It's Raylan," he corrects. "Not Ryan. Nice to meet you, Ashley."

Ashley giggles. "That's a funny name."

He hops up to hold the door open as she exits. "Not where I'm from."

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

Squeezed into a table in the corner by the window, Winona presses the phone tighter to her ear, trying to hear above the noise in the crowded deli.

"I've got a better idea," Gayle says. "Dan is taking the boys on a four day camping trip, why don't I come see you?"

"That would be great, but the point was for _me_ to get away," Winona reminds her.

Gayle laughs. "That's right. Listen, I have an idea. Let me call you right back, okay?"

"Sure, I'm at lunch for another half hour." Winona clicks off and takes a bite of salad. She's not that hungry. Whenever she's stressed, eating and sleeping don't come easy. Although, she has to admit she slept well enough in Raylan's arms last night.

Her phone beeps with a text. It's Richard. _Can we talk after work? I'll be at the house 6._

She texts back _OK. How is Tomás?_ Then she erases the question leaving just the two-letter response and hits send.

She's still staring at the phone when it vibrates with Gayle's call.

"We are all set," she says, excited.

"All set for what?"

"Dan's uncle has a place on Marathon Key. They've had it forever, but haven't been able to go the past couple of years since Aunt Alice has some dementia. Bert is happy to have someone go down to check it out. They have a caretaker that looks in on the place...he's going to call and have it ready for us."

"That's only about a two-hour drive," Winona says. "And I've never been there."

"It's right on the beach," Gayle says. "Knowing Bert, he's turned down all kinds of offers to sell."

"Willa loves the beach."

"Our first girl's trip! I can't wait!" She squeals. "I'm going to call right now for my flight. I'll let you know the details."

"Okay," Winona says. "I'm really glad you're coming." _Maybe you can help me figure out the mess I'm in._


	10. Chapter 10

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

Raylan hasn't been this bored since he was seven and Mama and Aunt Helen dragged him to see some travelling preacher who droned on for hours interrupted only by frequent shouts of "Amen!" and "Preach, Brother!" from the collected worshipers. The tent was hot, and he'd wriggled and squirmed until Helen had taken him out and bought him a Faygo Red Pop from the gas station machine across the road. The judge's speech at the luncheon is not as long, but it is every bit as indecipherable and boring. There's no red pop, or anything stronger, so he's made do with sweet tea. He takes another bite of his turkey club and looks around the room at the assembled Miami legal glitterati.

It's an interesting crowd. The District Attorney is here, along with two of his assistants, and so Sutter, looking every bit as bored as Raylan. Dennis Cabrizzo's legal team takes up an entire table in the center of the room. Tomorrow these men will be facing off to select a jury but today they're all smiles and slaps on the back. Raylan can't stand the duplicitous nature of lawyers.

The chair next to him scrapes the floor and Sutter sits down with his iced tea and sandwich identical to Raylan's. "At least the food is good," he says.

"Yep."

Raylan's phone buzzes. "Hey," he says to Sutter. "Keep an eye out, it's the office."

"Givens."

"I checked into that name you gave me," Mike Stansfield says. "Roberta Pembroke, the clerk's mother? She's not sick."

"What?" He walks back and forth in front of the doors to the dining hall squinting through the small window until he spots the judge talking to a tall dark haired woman. Sutter gives him thumbs up letting him know everything is fine.

"You sure you've got the right woman? From Miami?"

"Yes," Mike says. "I talked to her personally. And she hasn't seen or talked to her son since before she left last Thursday."

Raylan runs through the possibilities in his mind. Joanna said Dan Pembroke was upset when he called. The cartel might have given him false information about his mother and grabbed him somewhere between home and the airport. With him out of the picture, they could insert their own guy, or gal, in a position close to the judge. Or, they could figure the clerk's disappearance would shake things up, make the judge nervous. Or, maybe the cartel had nothing at all to do with it. Maybe Danny-boy was using Mama's vacation time to have some fun of his own.

"You tell the chief?"

"Yeah, and we checked the flight manifests. No one by the name Dan Pembroke was on any flight out of Miami in the last 48 hours."

"Well, shit," Raylan says. "I'd better let the judge know."

"We put out a BOLO for him and his car – he drives a 2002 Oldsmobile Alero. I've got Melissa pulling up whatever background she can."

"Alright, I'll see what Judge Walker has to say. Let me know when you've got something."

"Will do."

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

When Winona comes in, Richard is sitting at the bar with a pile of mail and other papers in front of him. He dressed in khakis, a blue-button down shirt, and a striped tie, not his regular work clothes. The tie is loosened and the collar undone. His navy sport coat is draped over the stool.

"Hey," she says, setting her purse on the counter.

It's only been a little over twenty-four hours, but the house already feels strange, like she doesn't really belong here. She wishes she'd suggested meeting somewhere neutral and public. Here, instead of good memories, all the ugliness of the other night seems to hang in the air between them.

He doesn't look up. "So, you're staying at Raylan's?"

"We did last night." Winona crosses her arms over her chest. "I didn't want Willa around Tommy and I didn't want to deal with my mother and her questions."

Richard smirks. "I guess that's as good excuse as any."

She breathes through a hot flash of anger and reaches into the fridge for a bottle of water.

"You can come back here whenever you want," he says. "You don't have to worry about Tomás," he says. "Carson's attorney presented a plan to the judge this afternoon. If he okays it, Tomás will go back to Philadelphia. He told us he wants to go to the public school, and Carson has arranged for counseling. He'll report to a juvenile judge up there. If he doesn't have any further trouble in two years, his record will be expunged."

"Oh." It seems to her that Tomás is getting off pretty lightly, all things considered. She's not sure how to approach this meeting, and Richard doesn't seem to have much to say either.

She takes a long drink of water. "I thought you wanted to talk."

"Not really." He picks up a folded paper from the stack and hands it to her. "What is there to talk about?"

"What's this?" She opens the paper and looks up at him. "You want a dissolution?"

" _Want_? No," he says, shaking his head. "When we got married I said until death do us part, and I meant it. Evidently you didn't. There's no reconciling that."

Biting her lip, she takes a deep breath, willing herself not to cry. Coming here, she knew on some level this marriage was over, but Richard laying out in such a cold matter-of-fact way is surprising.

"I can't do this Winona," He goes on. "I'm not the kind of guy who can look the other way. And, as much as I might want to, I don't think I'll ever be able to trust you again." He sighs. "It's not like I can tell you not to see Raylan; he's Willa's father. You _have_ to see him. And you're always going to be looking over your shoulder at him." He pauses. "And I'm always going to wonder."

She drops her head.

"I notice you're not trying to talk me out of it." A sad smile curves his mouth. "I knew he was still in love with you. I just didn't think you felt the same way. I should've seen it, I guess. It seems so obvious now."

"I'm sorry."

"Me, too. I don't think there's any reason to go through the hassle of both of us getting attorneys and filing for divorce. We don't have a lot of bills, or any kids of our own to worry about, we just need to decide about the house. Either we sell it, or you stay and pay me half of our equity."

"You don't want it?" The house had been Richard's project when they were dating, and he'd renovated it into the kind of place he'd always wanted to live in.

He shakes his head. "Carson's offered me a job – or found me one with a friend of his who has a construction company in New Jersey, not far from Philly. He's Carson's age, and his son isn't interested in the company so who knows? Maybe I'll make an impression."

"You're moving to Philadelphia?" Her moorings slip a bit, and she leans back against the counter for support. This isn't at all the conversation she thought they'd be having. She was expecting an apology and at least an attempt to reconcile, not this too-civil unemotional resolution.

"Tomás needs me. He needs at least one of his parents, and it probably isn't going to be Gina. And he needs his grandparents, too. They've raised him. That's my fault – partially anyway, but it would be wrong to take him away from them at this point."

He slides off the stool. "In a way, it'll be easier. A fresh start somewhere new." He shrugs into the jacket, slides the mail into a stack and picks it up. "I'll take care of this month's bills, and we can keep some money in the joint account for you to settle up after I'm gone. Have one of the guys at your firm look the papers over if you want, but I think it should be pretty simple."

"Willa will miss you," she says. Her eyes burn, and she blinks to avoid the tears that are close to falling.

"I'll miss her, too," he says. "I'd like to see her, before I go, to say goodbye at least."

"When are you leaving?"

"I'll give Bruce my two-week notice tomorrow."

"Wow. That's really soon." The water bottle crackles in her grip. "Willa already has a Father's Day card made for you. Maybe we could meet at Dimetrios before you leave?"

"That sounds good," he says. "And call me when you decide about the house."

"I will."

"Okay, I gotta go. I'm meeting Carson and Tomás at the lawyer's office."

"She's working late."

"He's paying her enough, don't worry." Richard stops in front of her, and for the first time, there's a sadness in his eyes. "I wish things had been different."

"Me, too," she says. She wishes she hadn't hurt him, but it's too late for that and saying the words would only make it worse. He leans in and kisses her cheek before walking quickly out the back door.

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

Winona sets the laundry basket on the counter and starts pulling socks out, rolling the pairs into balls and making a pile. As she folds, she tells Raylan about her conversation with Richard.

"So, that's it?" Raylan says from behind her. "Seems a little too easy to me."

Winona whirls around to face him. "Easy? Do you really think any of this is _easy_? I'm getting divorced. Again." She angrily folds a t-shirt and tosses it at him. She grabs one of Willa's sundresses from the basket and smoothes it out, laying it aside to iron later. "And I'm here with you, _again._ "

"Hey, that's not such a bad thing, is it? We're gettin' along." Raylan says, pulling her to him. "Come're."

She pushes him away, palm flat against his chest. "No," she says. "I'm not going to do this again. This is the problem. I go from one fucked-up relationship to another with no time to think. This time I'm going to think. So get away."

She gives him another shove and he backs away, both hands up in surrender.

"Okay, okay," he says

"I'm sorry," She sighs, easing down onto one of the stools, another folded sundress in her lap. She looks up at him. "I love you, and I this time I really do think we're different people than we were four years ago, but I need some time. I don't want to just make the same damn mistake all over again. Not when there's Willa to consider." She lays the dress on top of the other and fishes in the basket for the next item to fold. "She's so happy with all of us together. I don't want that to blow up in her face."

He decides a change of subject might be in order. "You talk to Gayle?"

"Yes, I called her at lunch."

"So are you goin' to Kentucky?"

"No," Winona says, "She's coming here."

Raylan opens the fridge and grabs two beers. "How is that a vacation for you?" He twists the caps off and hands one to Winona.

She takes a sip. "We're going down to the Keys for a few days. Dan's uncle has a place and they aren't using it."

Before he can respond, Willa comes into the kitchen in her bathing suit. "Are you ready, Mama?"

"Ready for what?"

"She's been wantin' to show you this since last weekend." Raylan slides open the patio door and Willa skips ahead of them to the pool.

By the time Raylan and Winona catch up to her, Willa is hopping up and down at the gate. He uses his key to unlock it and she bounds in, heading for the deep end of the pool.

"Watch me!" She stands at the edge, toes curled under. "Are you watching?"

"I'm watching," Winona assures her, shading her eyes with her hand.

"1 – 2 – 3!" Willa cries. On three, she jumps into the air, doing a perfect front flip into the water. Her head pops up instantly. She's smiling from ear-to-ear.

"Did you see?!"

"I saw!" Winona claps her hands. "Wow." Turning to Raylan she says. "Are you sure she's okay down there in the deep end?"

"Yep. She's a fish." He takes a swig from the bottle he carried with him.

Willa kicks her legs and dog paddles to the side of the pool, pulling herself up and running over to give her father a high-five.

"Awesome!" He says.

Winona's eyes scan the pool area. "Raylan, the sign says 'No Diving.'"

Willa puts her hands on her hips. "That wasn't a dive, Mama. It was a flip."

"Oh, well, then." Winona rolls her eyes at Raylan. "The sign also says No Bottles," Winona chuckles. "She's your daughter alright, breaking the rules."

Raylan looks pensive.

She glances at him, and then digs him in the ribs with an elbow. "That's a good thing, most of the time."

"Really?" He shakes his head. "She's stubborn and fearless...what's that going to be like when she's thirteen?"

"Hell on wheels," Winona says, watching Willa do another flip. "And awesome." She leans into him a little. "At least we've got seven years to prepare for that."

"Thank God."

Willa climbs out of the pool and pads over to them, making wet footprints on the concrete. "I'm hungry," she announces.

"Okay," Winona says. "We need to get packed. Aunt Gayle will be here in the morning."

"You pickin' her up at the airport?"

"No, she said she's renting a car and she'll do the driving down, which is fine with me."

"We're going to the beach, Daddy!" Willa says. "With Aunt Gayle. It's girls only so you can't come."

"Shucks," he says, grinning at her.

She looks up at them. "Can we have pizza for dinner?" She asks, hopefully.

"If you eat some salad, too," Winona says. "Deal?"

"Deal!" Willa high fives her mama and runs for the pool gate, her parents trailing behind.


	11. Chapter 11

Winona slides open the door to the deck, looks out at the wide unbroken expanse of blue water and sky, and squeals. "Oh, my God it's gorgeous!"

"Can I go to the beach, Mama? Can I? Please?" Willa follows her out, hopping, first on one foot, then the other, on the hot floorboards.

"Lunch first," Gayle announces. "Then the beach." In the tiny galley kitchen, she sets the canvas grocery bags on the counter and starts unloading the food they bought at the market before they left Miami. It's mostly breakfast and lunch stuff, since they are planning on eating their dinners out at one of the many nearby restaurants.

"I'm not hungry," Willa says, following her mother back into the cottage. "I wanna go to the beach." Her lower lip juts out dangerously. "Pleeeeease?"

"By the time you get your suit on, lunch will be ready," Winona tells her daughter. Willa hesitates and Winona points a finger. "Go."

Willa stomps across the tile floor throwing one withering look over her shoulder as she heads back to the bedroom.

"Oh, my," Gayle chuckles. "You are in for it when that one is a teenager."

"That's what everyone tells me," Winona says.

They eat lunch on the deck in their bathing suits, listening to the waves. The seagulls swoop and chatter begging for crumbs.

Willa manages half a peanut-butter sandwich along with some grapes and baby carrots before she slides out of her chair and grabs Winona's hand. "Can we go now, Mama?"

"Yes, yes," Winona laughs. "Let's go."

They spend the rest of the afternoon on the beach, all three running in and out of the water, building a sandcastle, tossing the beach ball, and getting sand everywhere. As they head back to the cottage, Willa sets down her bucket and holds her arms up to be carried. Gayle obliges, and Winona scoops up the discarded toy.

"Tired, Punkin'?" Winona says, leaning in to kiss her daughter's forehead.

By the time they reach the steps to the deck, Willa is asleep.

"The sun wore her out. Let her sleep," Gayle says. "We can walk down to that little restaurant on the water for dinner when she wakes up." She lays her niece on the chaise and Winona adjusts the umbrella to give her some shade then flops down in one of the other chairs.

"Be right back." Gayle returns with an open bottle of wine and two glasses.

"Isn't it a little early?" Winona teases.

"We're on vacation," her sister responds. "And besides, it's 5 o'clock somewhere."

Winona leans back, turning her face to the sun. "I always liked that song."

"Ever since Kenny Chesney did it at that concert we went to."

"I do like Kenny Chesney," Winona says, grinning.

"You and men in cowboy hats," Gayle grins and pours them each a generous glass of wine. "So," she says. "What's going on?"

They talked a bit in the car on the way here, but with Willa all ears in the back seat, Winona had ducked most of her sister's questions.

"Richard gave me dissolution papers." Winona watches her sister's face. Not that long ago, when she'd shown up at Gayle's pregnant by one man while still married to another; she'd gotten a what-the-hell-were-you-thinking speech. Now, Gayle tilts her head and bites her lip, and it's a few minutes before she speaks.

"Do you know what I thought when you called me to tell me you and Richard got married?"

Winona shakes her head and waits.

Gayle swirls the wine in her glass. "I felt sorry for him."

"Why?"

"You guys dated for what? Eight months?"

"Six," Winona says.

That's stretching it, really. She'd met Richard when his construction company was doing the renovations at the courthouse. Friendly joking led to a Saturday lunch date. They hit it off right away. Their third date was interrupted by a phone call from the sitter. Willa had fallen and she needed stitches. Not only did Richard take Winona straight home, but when she couldn't reach Raylan, he insisted on driving them to the ER. He waited with them and did a great job keeping Willa calm and distracted while they stitched her up.

"He had no idea what he was getting into," Gayle says now. "Raylan is _it_ for you." She shrugs. "You're never going to 'get over' him. Maybe – _maybe -_ if you didn't have Willa, you'd have a chance, but seeing him all the time? No way. That's what this is about, right? Raylan?"

She takes a big gulp of wine and nods.

"Are you sleeping with him?"

"Not at the moment."

Gayle scoots closer. "But you were? You had an affair with Raylan and Richard found out?" Her eyes are wide. "Oh my God! Did he walk in on you?"

"No, nothing as dramatic as that." Winona tells her sister about Tomás and the confrontation with Richard the night of the boy's arrest. She pours more wine into her glass. "I'm a horrible person."

"No, you're not. But like I said, poor Richard." Gayle frowns. "He didn't stand a chance. Why did you and Raylan break up anyway? What happened after he came back to Miami? I thought you were happy and then all of a sudden, you weren't. You never really talked about it."

"I did," Winona says. "But you'd just had Ben and I didn't want to lay all of it on you all the time." She takes a deep breath and goes on.

"I thought I'd changed. I thought I could accept his job and his hours and all of it, just to have him back raising Willa with me. During all that time alone with her, I missed him so much! And we _were_ happy together for a while. But then there were those damn federal cutbacks and the office was short-handed. Raylan was working all the time and Willa wasn't sleeping and she was more demanding during the day. I was exhausted. We started fighting about stupid things."

She sighs. "I think part of me was still resentful of him _not_ being there for the first six months of her life."

"Why wouldn't you be?" Gayle snorts.

"Then right after Willa's second birthday, he went off to Italy chasing some guy who skipped out on testifying and he was gone for two weeks. Guess how many times he called to check on us?" She flushes in anger even now, remembering. "Twice. Twice in two weeks. We had a horrible fight when he got back." She shrugs. "That was it. Neither of us wanted Willa to grow up with her parents fighting all the time. So..."

She takes a long swallow, finishing her wine. "But now? Now we get along great. He hardly ever misses a day without talking to Willa. And he's never once cancelled a weekend or not shown up when he said he would. Not once." A sad smile curves her lips. "If I'd only been more patient."

"Patience has never been your strong suit." Gayle smiles, but her tone turns serious. "So, what are you going to do?"

"I've still got her to think of." Winona looks over at Willa; still sound asleep in her bathing suit. "We can't rush into anything. I don't want to make the same mistakes again. I can't put Willa through that, and Raylan wouldn't want to, either."

"What does Raylan want?" Gayle picks up the bottle and divides the last of the wine between the two of them.

Winona smirks. "What do you think?"

"You really think you have the willpower to say 'no' to him?" Gayle raises an eyebrow, skeptical.

"Well, we slept in the same bed the night before last and nothing happened."

"Well," Gayle laughs. "He _is_ getting older."

"Ha. Very funny." She takes a sip of wine. "We've been talking more than we ever have. Really talking, about important things. I even told him how alone I felt when Willa was born. He regrets not being there."

"He told you that?"

Winona nods. "I think we cleared the air a bit. We probably have more to say to each other though, and I don't want to hop back into bed with him until I'm sure we can make it work this time."

"Sounds smart," Gayle says, but the way her lips are pressed together tells Winona she has her doubts. She doesn't blame her sister for that, not one bit.

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

Raylan scans the courtroom as the next group of potential jurors is brought in. It's been a long morning of voir dire. Both sides are exercising their right to dismiss for cause and so far, only three jurors have been selected. Satisfied that nothing is amiss, he leans against the wall, prepared to listen to another twelve people try to weasel their way out of serving.

His phone vibrates in his pocket and he slips it out to glance at the text. It's a picture of Willa standing on the beach in her bathing suit, holding a starfish up by one tentacle. She's grinning at the camera. Winona's text says _Don't worry. I made her throw it back._ with a little winky face. He smiles at the picture for a moment before slipping the phone back in his pocket.

They've only been gone for twenty-four hours, but the condo felt strangely empty last night. He drank too much beer and fell asleep on the couch watching ESPN. It reminded him a little too much of the time right after their last split.

Richard's decision to file for dissolution and move to Philadelphia is almost too good to be true. Raylan doesn't trust this seemingly good fortune. Sure, he and Winona have been getting along great, even talking more, but they always start out that way. Then something happens or everyday life sets in, and it all blows up in their face. The only difference this time, is that Willa would be collateral damage. Neither of them wants that.

He pulls himself out of his reverie, listening to the twenty-something slacker in the jury box explaining that he can't possible serve because he doesn't have anyone to take care of his three dogs. The defense accepts him, so does the prosecution. The judge bangs his gavel and the jury is up to four.

The door to the courtroom opens and one of the defense team squeezes into a spot between Cabrizzio and the head attorney. Raylan watches the exchange with interest as she whispers something into her boss's ear and he in turn, bends his head to Cabrizzio's. The former cop gives a quick nod.

"Your honor," the attorney says when court resumes. "May I approach the bench?"

Judge Walker beckons and both attorneys step up. The judge takes the paper the defense attorney gives him, reads it, and passes it to the prosecutor. Words pass between the three men and the judge nods.

"Step back," he says. He bangs his gavel. "Court is adjourned until tomorrow."

A buzz passes through the courtroom and the reporters rush out the doors to be first on the air with the surprising end to the day's proceedings.

"Cabrizio's attorney wants a conference in chambers after lunch. I'm betting they're working out a deal," the judge says as Raylan escorts him back to the office. "This could all be over by tomorrow."

Joanna looks up as they come in.

"I need to get the hell out of here," the judge says. "Joanna, why don't you come to lunch with us? Judge Chapman and Linda are coming, too. Maybe we can slip across the street to Marcella's without any of those damn reporters seeing us."

Joanna glances at her phone. "I guess I could," she says. "Why not?" She grabs her purse from under the desk and follows them back out. "I'm going to text Ashley and see if she wants to join us." She taps the message into her phone as they walk.

At the elevators the judge steps back. "After you," he says, giving Raylan the slightest of smiles. Maybe he is getting with the program.

Two young men in dark suits step off, engaged in conversation. Raylan glances into the empty elevator and motions for Judge Walker and Joanna. Judge Chapman joins them one floor down. He's tall, and his full dark beard is flecked with gray. A dark purple button-down shirt stretches tight across a broad belly. His secretary, Linda, is an older woman with frosted blonde hair and a tight expressionless look to her face that screams botox.

Ashley squeezes in after them, casting a grateful glance at Joanna. "Thanks for inviting me." She flashes a shy smile at Raylan.

Stepping off the elevator on the ground floor, Raylan looks right then left, turning toward the back entrance to avoid the reporters hovering around the front of the courthouse. The hallway is clear except for a guard leading a handcuffed prisoner in the telltale yellow jumpsuit of the Dade County jail. The prisoner, a young Hispanic man, is resisting and talking in rapid Spanish. The guard tugs him along, ignoring his protests.

Raylan pauses to let them pass. A door opens farther down the hall and Denny Cabrizio appears, hands cuffed in front of him, followed by his lawyer and the court bailiff.

The bailiff takes Cabrizio by the shoulder and steers him around the other prisoner and toward Raylan's group. As the two pass, Raylan sees the guard pull something from his waistband.

"No!" Cabrizio yells holding his handcuffed wrists in front of his face. His lawyer crouches to the floor, covering his face with his hands.

"Get down!" Raylan acts on his first instinct. Ashley screams and he pushes Judge Walker to the floor, holding him down with one hand and drawing his weapon with the other. Then he sees the object leave the guard's hand.

"Grenade! Get down!" Raylan manages to drag Judge Walker into the elevator bay right before the blast knocks him off his feet.


	12. Chapter 12

Raylan's ears ring with the sound of the explosion. Smoke fills his lungs and there's a stabbing pain in his right side when he takes a breath. He closes his eyes against the stinging, and then forces them open, squinting through the haze. Judge Walker is against the back wall of the elevator bay. The man's eyes are closed, but his hands are moving, reaching for the handkerchief in his pocket and holding it over his mouth.

Convinced that the judge is alright, Raylan starts inching toward the hall. The movement is painful and he winces, holding a hand to his side. He figures at least one rib is broken. Pressing his back against the wall, he uses the support to slide up, gun in hand. He eases out into the hallway.

Through the smoke he sees Joanna is closest, spread out in the hall face down, unmoving. Sharp pain hits him with every breath. Stealing himself he moves toward her. Alarms are going off, and before he gets very far, a contingent of Miami cops, FBI agents, and firemen are coming toward him.

He slips out his badge to identify himself. "There were six of us," he tells the fireman. He coughs and agony shoots through his chest. "I've got Judge Walker here," he chokes out. "And this is his assistant but I don't know where the others are. Is she alright?" Another coughing fit leaves him gasping for every painful breath.

The fireman eases Raylan back down to the floor just outside the elevator bay and slaps an oxygen mask on his face. Breathing is easier. It still hurts like hell, but it's easier. He watches as a paramedic checks for Joanna's pulse. The woman gives a nod to the fireman and he in turn, gives Raylan thumbs up.

Judge Chapman is not as lucky. The judge is laying face-up and Raylan can see the purple shirt is stained with blood. The paramedic gives a shake of her head, moving on to the next figure on the floor. The judge's secretary moans. She has a piece of shrapnel lodged in her shoulder, most likely glass from on of the blown out windows to the stairwell. Ashley is non-responsive. The medic looks at the mangled pile that was Dennis Cabrizzio and his attorney and steps over it. There's no need to check for a pulse. The bailiff is dead, too.

Walker scoots closer to Raylan. "Saved my life," he says. "Thank you. What about Joanna?"

Raylan's eyes are still on the medic, now moving back toward them.

He lifts the oxygen mask from his face. "She's alive," he tells the judge. Two more medics come from the other direction hauling a stretcher. Joanna is loaded on, limp but breathing.

Nausea hits Raylan, a combination of the smoke and the pain from his side. He fights it for several seconds, pulls off the mask just in time and vomits into one of the potted plants by the elevator. It hurts even worse than breathing. He must've groaned because instantly a different medic is at his side.

"Does it hurt to breathe?" A stethoscope is pressed to his chest.

Raylan nods. "Yeah."

"I've got broken ribs here, at least three," the medic called. "And a possible collapsed lung." He shines a penlight in Raylan's eyes. "Concussion, too."

The first medic comes back, pushing a gurney through the debris.

"I can walk," Raylan protests.

"Sorry, no one's walking out of here." He helps Raylan to his feet. Dizzy, he leans on both medics as they scoot him onto the gurney. It's a relief to lay back and close his eyes.

Outside there are news crews and cameras everywhere. Reporters rush toward the gurney, but the medics continue pushing past them toward the waiting ambulance.

The reporters yell out their questions anyway.

"Is Danny Cabrizzio dead?"

"Was it a bomb?"

"Was Cabrizzio the target? Had he made a deal to testify?"

"Who's responsible? Was it the Reyes Cartel or the Cubans?"

"That's enough," Sutter appears, holding up a hand. "This man is a Deputy U.S. Marshal. He can't answer your questions. There'll be a press conference at the front of the courthouse in ten minutes," he says. He leans over the gurney. "You alright, man?"

Raylan manages a nod.

"Dan's gonna be there at the hospital. Judge Walker's okay and that's all you need to worry about. We'll debrief you later."

"Sir, we have to go," the medic pushes past Sutter. The back door of the ambulance opens and they collapse the gurney and shove it inside. The female medic climbs in with Raylan and shuts the door behind her.

"No siren," he murmurs, putting a hand to his head.

"You got it." She smiles and slides a needle into his arm for the I.V.

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

Willa jumps up and down in time to the music, shaking her head. Her hair bounces over her shoulders and the bottom of her yellow sundress swirls around her.

"Look at her!" Gayle laughs, pointing her cell phone camera at Willa as she dances around the table.

Winona smiles watching her daughter and brings the bottle of beer to her lips. Empty plates and beer bottles clutter the table. After another day spent on the beach, swimming and playing in the sand, they all took naps then came to _The Flying Fish_ for a late supper. They pigged out on sweet gulf shrimp, crispy calamari, conch fritters, and chicken fingers with french fries(Willa).

An island band started playing while they were eating, mostly a mix of Beach Boys and Buffett. When some people began to dance, Willa scooted off her chair and joined them, much to the delight of her aunt and other diners. It's past her bedtime, but with a two-hour nap under her belt, she shows no sign of winding down.

Still watching Willa, Winona slips her cell phone from her pocket. She's texted Raylan twice while they've been here and he hasn't responded. He should be home by now. She tries again. _You ought to see your daughter right now. She's the life of the party._ Sure that will get a response, she sits back and waits, one eye on the screen. Nothing. Maybe he has the sound off. Maybe she should try calling.

She leans over to Gayle. "I'm going to grab another beer from the bar and give Raylan a call. Do you want anything?"

"Sure," Gayle says. "Bring me one, too."

Winona raises an eyebrow. Her sister isn't much of a beer drinker.

Gayle shrugs and gives her a grin. "I'm on vacation."

She pushes her chair out and stands, holding out a hand to Willa who shrieks in delight at someone to dance with. Winona leaves them on the dance floor and weaves her way through the tables to the bar. As she waits to get the bartender's attention, her eyes are drawn to the television perched above the bar. There's no television at the cottage, and she's appreciated the break, especially for Willa.

The breaking news ticker running at the bottom of the screen reads _Four killed, seven injured in Miami courthouse explosion._ She sucks in a breath and tries to keep her mind from racing. It could be anything. It might not affect Raylan at all. Maybe there was a gas leak. They haven't heard any news since they got here and now she feels hopelessly uninformed. Anxious, her fingers fumble with her phone, hoping the contact number she needs is still in here. Finding it, she heaves a sigh of relief and hits send.

The phone goes straight to voice mail. "Dan," she says. "This is Winona. I just heard about the explosion. I can't reach Raylan. Is he all right? Please give me a call." She pauses and adds "Thanks." before hanging up.

She signals the bartender, ordering Gayle's beer and one for herself and makes her way back to the table, setting down the beers. The band is taking a break, so Willa is back in her seat, playing a game on her aunt's phone.

Gayle looks up as Winona sits down. "What's wrong?"

Winona casts a cautious glance at Willa, but she's absorbed in her game. Still, she turns her head and lowers her voice before telling Gayle about the news report.

"So now I have to sit here and worry and wait for Dan to call. Shit!"

"Mama!" Willa cries looking up from her game. "You said a bad word."

"Sorry, sweetie." She waits to see if Willa, usually so tuned into her moods, will say anything else, but the little girl turns her attention back to the phone.

"This is what I hate about his job," she says quietly. "The waiting and the worrying."

"I know." Gayle takes Winona's phone and pulls up the website of a local Miami news station. "There's nothing about a U.S. Marshal being one of the victims," she says. "That crooked cop you were telling me about?"

Winona nods. "Denny Cabrizzio."

"Yeah, it says here that he and his lawyer are dead. No mention of who the others are." She glances up at her sister. "I'm sure Raylan is fine. He's probably just caught up in all this and can't get away to call you."

Winona nods. She ought to know how to deal with this uncertainty by now. It's been a part of her life for almost twenty years, since the night she met Raylan Givens. There was a brief respite for the six years she was married to Gary, but if she's honest, it's never really gone away. She takes a deep breath.

"Do you want to go back to Miami?" Gayle asks. "If we leave now..."

"If we leave now we'll get arrested for DUI," Winona points out. She doesn't really want to leave. It's good to have time with Gayle and she's not ready for that to end. What she really wants is for her phone to ring, but it lays on the table, silent, mocking her.


	13. Chapter 13

"I'm good," Raylan says, struggling to sit. A sharp pain hits his right side and he groans, falling back onto the pillow.

"Do that again and I'll put restraints on you," the doctor says. The ER is understaffed and it's obvious that he's flustered with the sudden influx of patients. "We got your lung reinflated, but if it collapses again we'll need to put in a chest tube. They're going to take you down for a CT scan in a little while, but I'm fairly certain you have a concussion. I'm admitting you overnight for observation."

"Dammit," Raylan says. "Where's my phone?"

"You mean this?" One of the nurses reaches into the plastic bag holding his personal items and pulls out his cell phone. He can see that the case and screen are both cracked.

"Does it work?"

She shrugs and hands it to him and he pushes the button to power it on. After a few minutes it's obvious that the thing is dead. "Well, shit," he says. "I need to make a couple of calls. Is there a phone I could use?"

"There will be when we get you to a room," the doctor says. "I'll send someone right in with some papers for you to sign, but it might be awhile before we get you moved."

He leaves and the nurse follows him out. Moments later the curtain parts as Dan Grant sticks his head in. "They tell me you're gonna live." His tie is loosened, shirt collar unbuttoned, and his suit jacket and pants are rumpled. It's been a long day for everyone.

"I'm a little beat up but I'll survive," Raylan says. "You wanna fill me in on what happened?"

His boss leans against the wall and crosses his arms over his chest. "Well, from what we know, it's not what you might expect. It wasn't the cartel."

"Then who the hell was it?"

"The ever-cooperative assholes at the FBI have pretty much shut us out, but from what I gather, Cabrizzio was about to make a deal."

"Why'd he wait so long?"

"I don't know. It must've been pretty sweet. He was gonna get off practically scott free for sharing what he knew - time served and maybe a year in one of those low-security country club joints. Evidently, some of his former brothers in blue weren't real happy about the deal and one of them took matters into his own hands. We think he claimed to be part of the protection detail and that's how he got a guard's uniform. At this point we're still trying to figure out how he got the grenade in."

He sighs. "Excuse me, the FBI is still trying to figure it out. We're off the case."

"Did the guy survive?"

"No, and neither did the prisoner he was escorting," Dan says. He swipes a finger across his phone and reads. "Alan Kellerman, 46. Robbery division." He looks back to Raylan. "That's where Cabrizzio was before he got promoted. Not sure if Kellerman was afraid of being exposed as another crooked cop, or just pissed that Cabrizzio was gonna get away with it. That's Miami's problem." He shrugs. Glancing at his phone again he scowls. "Just a sec, I got a couple of messages. Must've had the damn ringer turned off."

"Aw, hell," he says, after listening. "You up to talking to Winona? She heard the news and left a message when she couldn't reach you. She sounds upset."

"Shit," Raylan says. He knows there's no television at the cottage, but she must've heard about the explosion somehow. "I'da called her by now, but my phone is dead."

"As in 'dead'?" Dan grins, making quote marks in the air. He knows Winona is no fan of Raylan's job.

"As in I need a requisition for a new one." Raylan shows him the damaged phone.

"No problem." Dan hands his phone over. "Use mine. I'll be right back. I'm gonna check on Munõz."

"Huh? He wasn't anywhere near the explosion." Raylan carefully eases up on one elbow.

"Nah, but he strained his back trying to haul out some fat guy who passed out. He's right down the hall high on muscle relaxers. Take your time. I'll grab the phone on my way out."

"Thanks." Raylan stares at Winona's number for a few minutes before pushing _send._ She picks up on the second ring; her voice high and panicky.

"Dan? How is he? Was he hurt?"

"It's me, Winona," he says. "I'm okay."

"Thank God," she says, and more softly. "He's okay."

He hears Gayle respond. "I told you he was."

"Sorry if you were worried. My phone got damaged in the explosion."

"Of course I was worried, Raylan." This conversation is getting painfully familiar.

"Well ya can stop worryin'. Everything's good."

"Are you home?"

How does she do it? She always knows when he's not telling the whole truth. It's not a good idea to lie outright, she'll find out soon enough, but he hedges. "Not exactly."

"What does that mean? You aren't telling me something." The tension is back. "Raylan," she says. "Where are you?"

"I got a coupla cracked ribs and a concussion. They're keepin' me overnight for observation, but I'm fine."

"If you have broken ribs and a concussion you're not fine!" She blows out a breath. "Why didn't you tell me? We'll come home."

He shifts painfully on the thin mattress. "That's why I didn't tell ya," he says. "Ya don't need to come rushin' back. It sounds like you girls are havin' a great time." As much as he'd love to see her and Willa, the last thing he needs is Winona hovering and watching his every move, making him feel guilty for doing his job. They'll both be happier if she stays right where she is.

"We are enjoying ourselves but..."

"I'm _fine_." He repeats, although every breath still makes him flinch. "And I'm gonna be up to my ass in paperwork as soon as they let me outta here."

"It has been good to be with Gayle," she admits. "And Willa _is_ having fun. You should have seen her dancing around tonight at dinner."

He grins, picturing it. "Finish your vacation. Spend time with your sister. I'm alright."

"I'd feel better hearing that from the doctor."

"Tell ya what," Raylan says. "When I get to my room, I'll call ya again and if he's around ya can talk to him." He's only half joking.

Her tone softens. "It seems silly when you put it that way."

"So you gonna take my word for it?"

"I guess I don't have a choice." She sighs. "We were planning on heading back the day after tomorrow anyway. Gayle wants some time to visit with Mama before she has to go home."

"See?" he says. "By the time you guys get back, I'll be out of here."

Her answer is tentative. "You'll call me right away if anything changes?"

"Scouts honor."

"I know you were never a Boy Scout, Raylan" she laughs, but he hears the undercurrent of concern.

"Hey," he says. "I promise I'll call if anything comes up, but I'm sure it won't. I'll call tomorrow and talk to Willa."

"She'll like that," Winona says. "She misses you." She takes a breath. "I miss you, too."

"Good," he says.

She laughs, low. "I mean it," she murmurs. "I really do miss you. I don't want us to rush anything but..."

It's too much too soon right now, especially with the headache and the painkillers making him fuzzy. "They're getting ready to move me to my room, so I gotta go."

"Okay. You'll call tomorrow?

"Count on it."


	14. Chapter 14

_A/N The next chapter IS coming, it's just taking a bit longer to write than usual. Lots going on IRL, but I'm still writing and I promise the wait will be worth it. ;)_


	15. Chapter 15

Willa stands in her pajamas with her face pressed to the window. Rain streams down the glass. She looks up at her mother. "The beach looks sad, Mama."

"It does, doesn't it?" Winona strokes her hair, tangled from sleep.

"I wanted to swim." She pouts.

"I know, Punkin'. Maybe it will stop soon."

"Do the fish know it's raining?"

Winona has no idea.

Gayle saves her sister from making up an answer when she walks over, phone in her hand. She's frowning. "The weather says this system is going to hang around most of the day." She holds the screen up so Winona can see. "Look. It's stuck right over the Keys. Miami isn't even getting it."

"Go get dressed, Honey," Winona tells Willa, pushing her toward the bedroom. "And bring back the hairbrush so I can do something with that mop."

"Okay, Mama," she says. "Can I wear my bathing suit?"

"Yes, but put the pink sundress on over it, okay?" Winona bites her lip and eyes her sister. "Do you want to head back early?"

"Me?" Shaking her head, Gayle smiles at her. "You want to check on Raylan, don't you?"

"Do you mind?"

Gayle squints out the window at the gray sky. "I don't think we'll be missing anything," she says. "Why don't Willa and I do something while you go see Raylan?"

"Are you sure?" Winona appreciates the offer. It would be nice not to have to worry about her, or explain what's happened to her daddy.

"It'll be fun," Gayle says. "I'll take her to lunch and we could get pedicures after."

"You're spoiling her," Winona says, laughing. "But I know she would love it."

The promise of a grown-up afternoon with her aunt puts Willa in such a good mood that she doesn't even put up the usual fuss while Winona deals with her hair, brushing it out and putting it into two long braids.

Traffic back to Miami is bumper-to-bumper, turning a two-hour drive into a three-and-a-half hour crawl, with Willa singing along to the _Frozen_ soundtrack all the way. By the time Gayle drops her off at the hospital, Winona is doubly grateful for some quiet time.

A smiling older woman in a pink smock gives her Raylan's room number and directs her to the elevators. She shares the ride with a man in jeans and a rumpled t-shirt. He's unshaven and clutching the hand of a dark-haired boy about Willa's age.

The little boy looks up at her with big brown eyes.

"I'm gonna meet my new baby sister," he tells her. "She was just born this morning. Today's her real birthday."

"He's a little excited," his father says.

Winona smiles. "I'm sure he is. Does your new sister have a name?"

"Ivy Elizabeth Wilson," he says. "I'm Harrison John Wilson. I'm almost six."

"My little girl is six," Winona says.

"What's her name?"

"Willa."

"My dad's name is Kevin. What's your name?"

Harry," the father says. "That's not polite." He catches Winona's eye. "I'm really sorry."

She laughs and holds out her hand. "I'm Winona. It's nice to meet you, Harry." The boy shakes her hand very seriously. The elevator comes to a stop.

"This is our floor," the man says. "Come on, Harry."

"Bye, Winona," Harry says, giving her a wave.

She wags her fingers at him in response as the door slides shut.

On Raylan's floor she squints at the room numbers beside the doors. To her they seem to be in some kind of random, indecipherable order. Approaching the desk, she asks a nurse for directions.

"I'm looking for room 412," she says. "Raylan Givens?"

The young woman glances at a chart. "Um..." She looks to the woman behind her for help.

Sensing they might be stingy with information, Winona fibs. "I'm his wife. I've been out of town with my sister and just got back."

"Rosie," she says. "Did they just take the guy in room 412 down for a CT?"

"The Marshal? Yep." A heavy-set, dark skinned woman looks up from her computer. "You just missed him, Honey."

"He told me he had a CT scan yesterday when they brought him in," she says, confused and more than a little worried.

"I just came on shift," Rosie says. "Let me see what I can find out for you." She picks up a phone, pushes some buttons, and starts talking quickly, her back to Winona. "Um hmm. Okay. His wife is here. Alright, I'll have her wait." She hangs up the phone and turns around, coming out from behind the desk. "If you want to wait in the lounge, they'll bring him back up as soon as they're done. The doctor will talk to both of you."

This does nothing to alleviate her concern. "Do you know why they needed another scan?" Winona asks.

"The doctor will talk to you after he reads it." She patted Winona's arm. "I know you're worried, but there's really nothin' else I can tell you. If you want some coffee, or a soft drink, there's a machine around the corner. I'd go for the soft drink. Coffee machine isn't too reliable."

"Thank you," She says, seeing she isn't going to get any more information. In the lounge, she sits on the uncomfortable sofa. It's upholstered with some kind of industrial fabric in an ugly burnt orange color. The floral paintings on the walls are loud and amateur. She picks up one of the tattered magazines from the table. It's two years old. She tosses it back and stands up, crossing the room to the windows.

A grey sky greets her, clouds rolling in. Despite the forecast, the rain has followed them to Miami. She hopes it's not an omen.

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

"The nausea and vomiting you experienced this morning are symptoms of a subdural hematoma," the doctor says. "We're going to keep you here for observation..."

"How long?" Raylan asks. "I'm not feeling nauseous anymore."

Winona jumps in, too. "How bad is the bleeding?"

The doctor sits on the edge of the sink. "It's not a bad bleed, but I'm not comfortable sending you home with _any_ bleeding. We'll do another CT scan tonight and if it's stopped, we can talk about releasing you in a day or so."

Raylan takes a shallow breath; wincing.

"Broken ribs are pretty painful," the doctor says. "Not much we can do, and with the bleeding in the brain, we have to be careful with painkillers."

"Isn't there anything you can give him?"

"I'm fine."

Winona looks him over. "You're not _fine_ Raylan. You need to rest and you can't do that if you're hurting."

"I can up the dosage of acetaminophen temporarily." The doctor makes a note on the chart. "They'll keep close tabs on your vitals and page me if anything changes. I'll see you later this afternoon."

The door closes quietly behind him and they're alone. He watches as Winona wraps her arms around herself and paces at the end of the bed.

"Why didn't you call me?" She doesn't look up at him as she asks the question. "You said you'd call if anything changed."

He takes a shallow breath. "I was kinda busy throwing up," he says. He decides to go for sympathy. "Hurt like hell with these ribs, too."

Now her blue eyes find his. "I'm sure it did," she says. Her voice softens.

The nurse comes in with a paper cup of pills. She pours water into his plastic cup. "This should help with the pain," she says. "Try to rest."

Raylan nods and she watches as he dutifully takes the medication. When she leaves, he pats the side of the bed without the railing, the opposite side from his injured ribs. "Come're."

She walks over slowly and looks down at him. "Did you miss me?" A smile curves her mouth and perches gingerly on the bed, careful not to jostle him, and takes his hand.

"I did," he says. She's still smiling, but her eyes are clouded. "Don't worry," he says, squeezing her hand. "I'm gonna be fine."

"I'm glad they're keeping you here."

"Well, that makes one of us," he grimaces. She's quiet, and he knows she's thinking about all the conversations they've had over the years in ERs and hospital rooms. He doesn't have any more reassurances to give her, so he changes the subject.

"Where's Willa?" He asks.

"Gayle took her to lunch. Now they're getting pedicures." Winona takes her phone out and shows him a picture of Willa grinning in the salon chair, one set of toenails already painted a neon pink. "Gayle is really enjoying this."

"That's good." He stifles a yawn and his eyes blink closed.

She leans in and kisses his forehead. "You should get some sleep."

"Stay?" He says, not opening his eyes.

She settles in next to him, leaning on the pillow. "I'm not going anywhere."


	16. Chapter 16

Back at Raylan's condo Winona sinks onto the couch with her glass of wine, curling one leg underneath her. Empty Chinese containers litter the coffee table, but she's too tired to clean up.

"Is she asleep?" Gayle asks.

"Finally," Winona nods. "After a thousand questions about her father, and four stories." She sips the wine.

"You're still worried about Raylan, aren't you?"

"Bleeding in the brain is something to worry about, don't you think?"

"Did the doctor say it was serious?"

"Serious enough to keep him in the hospital." She chews her lip and stretches her legs out, pushing the containers aside and resting her feet on the edge of the coffee table. "He wasn't happy."

"Raylan or the doctor," Gayle says with a smirk.

Winona smiles in spite of herself. "Who do you think?"

"Look on the bright side," she suggests. "At least he won't be out in the field for a while, right?"

"That's true." She swirls the wine in her glass and glances up as headlights pass the window.

Gayle yawns, looking at her watch. "It's really late. I should get back to the hotel. I'm meeting Mama for breakfast and you know how early _she_ gets up."

"I do. She invited us to join you, but Willa has a dentist appointment in the morning," Winona says. "I told Raylan I wouldn't be by until later in the day, unless he needs me."

"Why don't you bring Willa by the hotel when you're done? We can swim in the pool and I'll take her while you visit Raylan."

Winona takes a long drink of her wine. "You already got her a pedicure and two new dresses. If you take her again you'll be broke." She chuckles.

"I don't have any other little girls to spoil. Don't worry, there are things to do besides shop. Maybe we could go to a movie."

"She'd like that." She sets the glass down and starts to gather the Chinese food cartons. Gayle hops up to help and they carry them out to the kitchen.

"You could just stay here tonight," Winona says.

"And waste that whirlpool tub? I love you little sister, but no way." Gayle grins, then wraps her arms around Winona, giving her a hug. "Raylan's going to be fine. Don't you know by now how tough he is?"

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

"I went to the dentist and didn't cry. No cavities!" Willa smiles broadly at her daddy, stretching her mouth wide to show as many of her teeth as possible. "Then we went swimming at Aunt Gayle's hotel. The pool is on the roof! Aunt Gayle says I'm a good swimmer. And then after that Aunt Gayle took me to see the new Minion movie."

Willa bounces by the bed, first on one foot then the other. "It was sooooo funny, Daddy! And we had popcorn and Aunt Gayle let me have some of her pop, too." She stops hopping and cocks her head at him, scowling. "You're not listening."

Hands planted on her hips, she looks so much like her mother that Raylan can't help laughing. His ribs punish him and he presses one hand to his side. "I promise I'm listenin'," he says. "You saw a funny movie and it looks like Aunt Gayle gave you too much caffeine."

Willa pouts. "What's that?" She screws up her face. "I didn't have that. All I had was popcorn and pop and some chocolate covered raisins."

"I don't get it," Winona grumbles, pulling a t-shirt out of the duffel bag. "She never feeds her own kids that stuff."

"She's bein' an auntie, not a mama," he says. "And she doesn't have to deal with the after effects since she's havin' dinner with your mother tonight." He reaches for the shirt.

"On second thought, maybe I did get the better end of the deal," she says with a smile. "Let me help you with that."

"I can do it," he says. But he winces when he raises his arm and Winona steps closer, easing the shirt over his head and guiding his arms in one at a time. It's less painful that way, but he's still clenching his jaw when they finish.

"I'm really surprised they're letting you go home so soon." Winona says. "I mean, it's only been two days since the explosion. Is he sure all the bleeding has stopped?"

"The way I've been poked and prodded and scanned he sure as hell oughta be sure." Winona raises an eyebrow, skeptical and he adds. "He seems to know what he's doin'."

She folds the hospital gown and tosses it on a chair. "You don't care as long as you get out of here."

At the window, Willa is stretching up and down on her toes, as if playing peek-a-boo with the sky. Next she twirls around, making her skirt fan out. "Can we get pizza for dinner, Mama?"

"I think you've had enough junk for one day," Winona said. "How about making some of those chicken tacos?"

"Daddy and I like pizza," Willa says, pouting.

"Chicken tacos sound good," Raylan says, giving Willa a grin. "You like those."

"I like pizza better."

Winona plumps Raylan's pillow and helps him ease back. "You might as well relax until Dr. Ravia gets here to check you out."

Willa twirls again and Winona sits in the chair and pulls the iPad out of her bag.

"Stop that," she says, handing her the device. Willa takes it and hops up onto the end of Raylan's bed.

"Do you want to play _Plants vs. Zombies_ with me, Daddy?"

"Sure." He pats a spot on his good side and Willa scrambles up beside him. They both bend their heads to the game.

"No, Daddy, you gotta grab those sunshine globs or all your plants will die. Plants need sunshine."

"Got it."

Willa giggles. "The zombies are funny. What's that one riding on?"

"That's a Zamboni. They use it to smooth the ice at hockey games."

"No, Daddy, it's a _Zomb_ oni." She giggles again and Raylan groans. He looks up to see Winona watching them.

"What?"

"Nothing." She dips her head, pretending to search through her purse.

'Nah, what were ya thinkin' just then?" He presses.

"Frick and Frack," she says, laughing. "You two are so much alike."

"Ya know they were real?"

"Who?"

"Frick and Frack. They were in the Ice Follies. They were a duo. They did a comedy routine as they skated together."

"Ah. I didn't know that." Winona's eyebrow goes up. "I've missed your stories."

He clears his throat. "Are you gonna go back to the house now that Tomås isn't there?"

Willa looks up, listening to every word.

"I thought we'd stay with you for a few days," she says. "If only to make sure you don't try to go back to work."

"She's right," the doctor says, entering the room. "I'd like you to stay home the rest of the week, with two weeks of light duty after that."

Raylan scowls. "Two weeks?"

"At least." Dr. Ravia hands him the discharge papers. "I want to see you Friday. After that you can follow up with your regular physician." He nods to Winona. "Make sure he rests."

"Oh," Winona says, keeping her eyes on Raylan. "I will."


	17. Chapter 17

"Sorry," Tim says. He rubs the back of his neck watching Winona retreat into the kitchen with the rag and bucket. He looks down at Raylan. "She's really pissed, huh?"

"Well," Raylan says, stretching out his legs and gingerly leaning back on the sofa. "You showed up from Kentucky unannounced. With a puppy. Who just peed on the carpet twice. So yeah, she's pissed."

"Hell, I came to see you. I didn't even know you two were back together."

"We aren't technically." Raylan doesn't meet the sniper's amused gaze. "She's just stayin' here and helpin' out while I'm recovering."

" _Technically_? Shit," Tim says it soft, but Willa looks up, grinning.

"That's a bad word." She eyes her father. "He said a bad word."

"Yes he did, sweetheart, and Deputy Marshal Gutterson knows better," Raylan admonishes, grateful to have the spotlight off of his ever-confusing relationship with his ex-wife, for the moment anyway.

"What should we name him, Daddy?" Willa crawls backwards away from the black and white pup; who yips and lunges at her. She collapses in giggles and the puppy jumps on top of her. "Ow!" Willa cries a moment later. "He bit me!"

She holds up her finger for Raylan to see. "I'm bleeding Daddy!"

Tim swoops in and scoops up the puppy, tucking him in his arm. The dog immediately stretches up and licks his face. He wipes it off and leans over Willa.

"Puppies bite to play," he tells her. "He doesn't know how sharp his teeth are. You have to teach him not to do that." He takes his thumb and forefinger and gently squeezes the puppy's mouth closed. "Do this, but not too hard, and say _No bite!_ " As soon as he lets go, the puppy licks his hand.

"Tim Gutterson, Dog Whisperer," Raylan smirks. Grabbing a tissue from the box on the end table, he wraps it around the Willa's finger. "Don't tell your mama," he says, giving her a wink. "That is if you want to keep...whatever his name is."

"Ranger," Willa announces. She looks up at Tim. "Daddy says you were a Ranger and you brought me my puppy so his name is Ranger." She holds out her arms for her new pet, careful to keep her hands away from his mouth when Tim hands him over.

"Can he sleep with me?" Willa heads down the hall without waiting for an answer. "I'm gonna show him our room."

"I guess it's a little too late to discuss whether or not we're keeping it," Winona says from the kitchen doorway once the little girl is out of earshot.

Tim shakes his head and opens his mouth to apologize again, but Raylan interrupts him.

"Every kid should have a dog."

"Gayle and I had a cat." She crosses her arms over her chest. "And two hamsters."

"How'd that combination work out for ya?" He grins and despite her efforts the corners of her mouth twitch.

"Arlo let you have a dog?" Tim raises an eyebrow at Raylan. "Did he make you shoot it like in that movie?"

"Nope." Raylan shakes his head. "Arlo had a soft spot for dogs. Never saw him be mean to any of 'em. Of course, they couldn't talk back."

"You, on the other hand..." Tim says.

"Me on the other hand he'd kick the shit out of."

"I'd better make a beer run. We're almost out." Winona picks up her purse. "I put clean sheets in the spare room." She eyes Tim. "I assume the Army taught you how to make a bed."

"Indeed they did," he says. "But I don't want to kick you out of your bed. I can be perfectly comfortable on the couch. Or on the floor, or in a bathtub. The Army taught me that, too."

"That's okay. I'll cuddle with Willa tonight."

Raylan sighs and Tim chuckles. "Technically, huh?"

Winona's forehead wrinkles in puzzlement, then she shakes it off. "Anything else we need?"

"I brought some of the puppy food he's been eating," Tim says. "There's plenty of that. But if you've got a pet store around you might want to pick up a crate. It's the easiest way to potty train 'em."

"God knows he needs that," Winona says.

"Get ice cream," Raylan says. "And get vanilla, not that Chunky Monkey or whatever the heck you got last time."

"Willa likes Chunky Monkey."

"I like mocha myself," Tim says.

Winona smiles. "Me, too. Guess I'll be getting more than one flavor."

"Just don't forget the vanilla. And a whole carton, not one of those fancy-ass pints."

Winona rolls her eyes and picks up her keys off the counter. When she's gone Raylan looks up at Tim. "So, you gonna tell me why you're here? And don't tell me it's a vacation. You don't take vacations."

"This may call for something stronger than beer," Tim says.

Raylan notes the lack of sarcasm in the younger marshals response and studies him as he carefully pushes up from the couch. In the kitchen, he opens a cupboard and takes out the bottle of Woodford.

Tim gives a low whistle. "Movin' up in the world."

"It was a gift from a judge I pushed out of the way." He pours two generous glasses and hands one to Tim. "So, what's up?" He takes a sip, watching as Tim does the same before taking a seat on one of the barstools at the counter.

"You talked to Art lately?"

He shakes his head. "A couple of weeks ago. Not since this," he pokes at his rib. "I was kinda surprised he didn't call to raz me about it."

"How'd he seem; last time you talked?"

"Fine, he talked about comin' down for a visit. Why?" He takes another swallow of the bourbon.

"I got a call from Rachel last week. You know her mama has Alzheimer's, right?"

"Yeah, last time we talked she mentioned she'd moved her out to an assisted living in Seattle so she'd be closer."

"Well, evidently, Leslie called her and asked some very pointed questions about early symptoms."

"Symptoms?"

Tim sighs and drains his glass, setting it down pointedly in front of the bottle. Raylan pours him another and waits while he drinks half of it.

"We'd all noticed some stuff around the office the last couple of months. Art was always misplacing things and then one of us would find them in really strange places. I found his cell phone in the refrigerator one day. Nelson found his keys in the petty cash drawer. It got to be a running joke that Art's mind was already retired."

"Shit." Raylan splashes more bourbon into his glass. "You never said anything."

"Yeah, well. I thought he just had a lot on his mind." Tim holds out his glass for thirds. "But when Leslie called Rachel she told her that a week or so ago, Art went out to Lowe's or Home Depot - one of those - and he didn't come back for a long time. When he did, he was really agitated. Leslie asked what took so long and he shouted at her to leave him alone and went back to his office and poured a drink in the middle of the day." Tim gets up and paces in front of Raylan. "Eventually he came out of the office and told her he hadn't been able to find the car in the parking lot. She said that happened to her all the time, but then he told her he couldn't find it because he couldn't remember what kind of car it was or what color it was or anything."

Raylan gives a low whistle. "How'd he find it?"

"After wandering around in the parking lot for awhile he looked down at the keys in his hand and pushed the emergency button. The alarm went off and he found the car and drove home."

"Wow." He motions to the stool. "Sit down you're wearin' a hole in my floor." He caps the bottle and puts it back in the cupboard. "So, what're they gonna do?"

Tim perches back on the edge of a stool, but his foot taps the floor rhythmically. "He's going to the Memory Disorders Center at UK this week for some tests."

"So he hasn't said anything to you? You just know 'cause you talked to Rachel?"

"Pretty much. I had a drink with him about a week ago and he never said a word. Seemed fine."

"Maybe I should have Winona give Leslie a call. Art said somethin' about them comin' to see Willa, so that could be her excuse."

"Might not be a bad idea." He clinks his glass against Raylan's. "To Art," he says and they both drink.

 _A/N Thank you for your patience. I know there is quite a bit of time passing between chapters, but I promise I have not abandoned this story and I will continue to update as my currently hectic life permits!_


	18. Chapter 18

_A/N Happy 90th Birthday, Elmore. You are missed._

"So you want me to call Leslie and feel her out on how Art is doing?" Winona glances at her cards. "Pass."

Raylan tips his bottle and finishes the last of his beer. "Leslie doesn't know Tim talked to Rachel, so we gotta be careful. Just say I toldja they were thinkin' about a visit and you wanted to talk to her about it."

"I can do that," she says. "Poor Leslie."

"Yeah. Art's pretty young for this. It could be a long haul."

"If that's what it is," Tim says. "I did some research. There are other things it might be – mini-strokes, a blood clot, even a brain tumor."

"And that's a better scenario?" Raylan lays his cards down. "I'm busted."

Tim discards and Winona snatches it up.

"Blackjack," She says with a smile, laying her cards on the table. "Read 'em and weep, gentlemen." She picks up her beer and drains it.

"Shit," Tim says. "That's like, the fifth hand in a row. You didn't tell me she was a card shark."

"My dad loved to play '21'. We played on vacation and bet nickels. He'd take our allowance money, too...so Gayle and I got pretty good at it."

"It's mostly luck," Raylan grumbles, a little defensive.

"Don't be a sore loser, Cowboy." Winona bumps him with her hip as she rises from the table. "I'm getting another beer, anyone else want one?"

"I'm tapped out." Tim raises his arms over his head and gives an exaggerated yawn. "It was a long drive. I think I'll take a shower and get some shut-eye."

"You gonna head out to see that buddy of yours tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow or the next day, yeah. How far is it over to Tarpon Springs?"

Raylan shrugs. "Three, four hours." Winona holds up a beer and he nods, taking it from her and twisting off the cap. He takes a swig. "Your buddy Greek by any chance?"

"Nick Kalivas. How the hell did you know that?"

"Tarpon Springs has the highest population of Greeks in the United States. Some of 'em came over here to be sponge divers, brought their families. They dove with no equipment. Back in the 1920's it used to be quite the tourist attraction to watch them from the Sponge Docks. People would set up picnics and everything."

Tim looks at Winona over Raylan's shoulder. "How does he know all this shit?"

She shrugs and Raylan flashes a grin. "I read."

"Speaking of which..." Tim snags the strap of his duffel and pulls it up onto the table. Undoing the zipper, he reaches inside and tosses a book at Raylan, who catches it in one hand.

"Nice reflexes."

" _Maximum Bob",_ Raylan says, squinting at the title. "Any good?"

"You'll like it. This Leonard is a good writer. Quick read and funny as hell. The judge reminds me of Reardon."

"Thanks."

"Pass it on when you're done," Tim says, shouldering his bag and yawning again, for real. "I'm hitting the sack, unless you two need a chaperone." He raises an eyebrow.

"I think we'll be fine," Winona says. She turns back to the sink, rinsing off a plate and bending to put it in the dishwasher. Raylan eyes the curve of her hip in her tight jeans and Tim snickers.

"Whatever you say. You change your mind, just holler." He makes his way down the hall to the guest room and Raylan pushes up from the table, palming the deck of playing cards and slipping them back into the box.

"Would you go check on Willa while I finish up these dishes?" Winona pulls her hair back with one hand, twisting it into a loose bun and securing it with a pencil from the jar on the counter. "I told her that puppy was _not_ sleeping in her bed. Make sure he's in the crate. I'm not planning on cleaning up after him any more tonight."

"Relax," he says. "That's why we got the crate. I'm gonna be off a few more days. We'll get Ranger house-trained in no time."

"I certainly hope so." She watches as Raylan walks down the hall and carefully opens the door to Willa's room, sticking his head in. After a moment, he beckons her with a finger.

"Come're. You gotta see this."

"That dog better not be in her bed." She tosses down the dishtowel and joins Raylan, peering into her daughter's bedroom. As her eyes adjust to the darkness she sees that the bed is empty. Willa's sheets are thrown back and the pillow is missing.

"Look," Raylan says, pointing.

Willa is curled up on the floor beside the crate on her pillow, her fingers stuck through the bars. Inside, the puppy is pressed as close to her as he can get. Both are sound asleep.

"Just like her daddy," Winona says, after a moment.

He cocks his head. "Whaddya mean?" He whispers.

She chuckles quietly. "She found a way to do what she wanted without _technically_ breaking the rules."

He slips an arm around her waist. "She's somethin', isn't she?"

"She is." She nods and turns her face up to his, watching him watch their daughter. "At least I'll have the bed to myself."

"Ya don't have to sleep in here ya, know." His fingers slide along her ribcage sending tingles up and down her spine.

"I think I should, don't you?"

He lowers his head, nipping gently at her earlobe. "Should is overrated," he murmurs, his breath soft on her neck. He hasn't forgotten how to get to her. Just like that, she's wet.

"Whoa, Cowboy." Her voice is husky as she reluctantly pulls away.

"Dammit, Winona." He puts on the hurt little boy face. "You just stringin' me along?"

"No!" She says it too loud and Willa stirs, turning over in her sleep. One hand flat to his chest, she pushes him out into the hall, pulling the door shut behind her. She crosses her arms over her chest. "You know that's not it."

"Hard to tell sometimes." Hands on his hips he stares at his feet.

"I want this to work as much as you do." She takes a deep breath. "I think we should go on a date."

"A date? Seriously?" He huffs. "You wanna _date_ me? It ain't like we gotta get to know each other."

"You don't know everything about me," she says, pushing past him. "And I sure as hell don't know everything about you." He follows her through the living room and back to the kitchen.

"So we do what? Dinner and a movie?"

"I was thinking dinner and _conversation,_ Raylan, you know, when two people talk to each other?" She opens the dishwasher and deposits a soap pod in the dispenser, shuts the door and pushes the button. "

I've been wanting to try that new Spanish restaurant, _Majorca_? Rebecca at work says they have the best sangria and the stuffed filet of sole is to die for."

"Is that the one on South Beach? I've driven by. It's pretty fancy."

"Good, I can get a new dress and you can wear something other than jeans."

"Great." He grimaces.

"I could ask Mama to watch Willa." She casts a sideways glance his way. He's interested now.

"Overnight?"

"Maybe." A smile curves the corners of her mouth.

He leans in and kisses her, long and slow, his tongue teasing her lips apart. "Maybe?"

"Yes, Raylan, maybe." She kisses him again, quickly. "We'll see, okay."

"Okay, but just so ya know, it's gettin' a little hard with ya livin' here."

"Just a _little_ hard?" She grins at him.

"Funny. You're funny." Pulling her to him he kisses her again, this one longer, deeper. When they break for air he leans against the counter and picks up her unfinished beer.

"Majorca, huh?" He says, grinning. "They have steaks? I think I'm gonna need some protein."


	19. Chapter 19

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

"Well, shit." Raylan slams his cell phone down on the desk. His outburst isn't that unusual so none of the other marshals even look up from their computers, but Dan Grant pauses on his way to the coffee.

"Watch it, Givens, that phone is government property." He leans one hip on the desk. "What's got you so worked up? Pencil break? Paperwork not going well?"

Paperwork is all he's allowed to do, under doctor's orders, until his appointment next week. Dan and the other marshals have been happy to oblige, sending all the scut work collecting on their desks his way.

Raylan sighs. "Nah, I'm just tryin' to get reservations at _Majorca_ and the maitre d is a real asshole."

"Reservations for when?"

"Sometime in the next six months'd be nice." He leans back in the chair and stretches, feeling the tension in his arms and shoulders. He's only been back on the job for a day and a half and he's exhausted. And it's only paperwork. Maybe he's getting too old for this shit.

"Hey, I was sorry to hear about Art," Dan says, changing the subject. "Have you heard any thing new?"

He's not really surprised his boss knows something that's supposed to be hush-hush. Like all organizations, the Marshals' Service has its gossip train and most of the Chief Deputies are on board.

"Winona talked to Leslie the other day. They have an appointment this week at the memory center at UK, but all of the other tests came back clear – no brain tumor, no stroke."

"So it looks like Alzheimer's? Shit. That's a lousy deal."

"Yeah, it is." Raylan taps the pen on the desk. "Leslie told her they're staying positive. There are all kinds of new drugs and treatments coming along all the time, so maybe something will help, or at least stall it for awhile."

"I hope so. Art deserves to enjoy his retirement. He earned it, putting up with you."

"Yeah, I guess I gave him a few headaches."

"A few?" Dan chuckles. "Hey, why were you wanting reservations at _Majorca_ anyway? You got a hot date?"

"Winona really wants to go there."

"Winona, huh?" He grins. "You two back on that horse?"

He gives a shrug and returns the grin. "She wants to _date."_

"I always thought marriage and babies and divorce came _after_ dating...maybe _that's_ what I've been doing wrong."

"Ha," Raylan says, opening a file and picking up his pen. "I guess I'll have to try someplace else. Hope she's not too disappointed."

"Give me a minute," Dan says. He heads for his office and closes the door. A few minutes later he returns, handing Raylan a slip of paper.

"The 19th ? That's next Saturday. That guy told me they were booked on weekends until October. How the hell did you do that?"

"Connections." His boss winks. "Miami is all about connections." He slaps a couple more folders on top of Raylan's stack. "Hope you get through all your paperwork by then."

"Asshole," Raylan mutters.

Dan just laughs.

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

Winona presses the 'speaker' button on her phone and grabs a beer from Raylan's fridge. "So can you watch her or not?" She says, loud enough for her mother to hear. She watches out the window as Willa tugs the puppy along on a leash, heading for the grassy area where the condo residents walk their dogs.

"Well, of course I can watch her, but why are you being so secretive? Oh! Are you meeting with Richard? Do you think the two of you might work things out?"

She sits on a barstool and takes a sip of beer. It's good and cold. She swallows. "No, Mama, I'm not meeting with Richard and we aren't working things out." She sighs. "It's just a girl's night." The lie slips easily from her lips, but she realizes her mistake immediately. There's a long pause in the conversation, and she stretches up to eye Willa and Ranger. The puppy is rolling in the grass, tangling himself in his leash, the little girl bent over in laughter, watching him.

"If it's a girl's night, why can't she just stay with Raylan? I know he isn't back to work full-time."

Her mother sounds so damn smug.

"If you'd rather not spend time with Willa, I can find someone else. It's no big deal." She takes a huge gulp of beer, spilling some onto the front of her blouse. "Dammit."

"What? There's no need to swear." Mama tsks. "It will be nice to have Willa stay over. You never want her to stay over." Another pause. "Are you seeing someone new? It's a bit fast; don't you think? You and Richard aren't even divorced yet."

"I'm not seeing anyone new," Winona says, instantly regretting it. Why does she always end up playing right into her mother's hands?

"No." Mama's voice goes up at least an octave. "Winona Louise please tell me you are _not_ going to do this again!"

"Mama..."

"You have Willa to think of! I know Raylan is a good father, don't misunderstand me, I'm very glad he's stepped up. I mean, after he couldn't even show up when she was born, I never thought he would. But you have given that man enough chances to change his ways and..."

"Mama..."

Her mother goes on, oblivious. "I don't want to see my granddaughter get hurt when you two implode again. And you know you will."

"We're different this time," Winona says, as much to herself as to Mama. "And we _are_ thinking of Willa, I promise. We're taking it slow. We're just going out on a date."

"A date? Isn't it a little late for you two to be dating? Maybe if you'd dated before you ran off and got married six weeks after you met him all of this could have been avoided."

"But then we wouldn't have Willa." Her daughter runs in, followed by the puppy sliding all over on the kitchen tile. Winona quickly grabs the phone and pushes the speaker button to make her conversation private.

"Alright," her mother says, sighing. "Do you want me to pick her up, or are you dropping her off?"

"I'll drop her off," she says. "Thank you, Mama."

"You're welcome. Just don't make me regret this."

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

"Is that what you're wearing for your big date with Winona tonight?" Dan looks Raylan up and down.

He glances down at the brown jacket, striped tie, and khaki pants. "What's wrong with it?"

"It's boring," his boss says.

Raylan grins. "That's what the hat is for," he says, fitting the Stetson on his head.

Dan glances at the enormous watch on his wrist. "You've got time. Come on."

Raylan follows him reluctantly. "Where're we goin'?"

"Beckett's." He pushes the button on the elevator.

"I'm not goin' to Beckett's. That place is too damn metrosexual for me."

Dan hoots out a laugh. "I didn't know you even knew the word metrosexual." The doors open and he steps in, grabbing Raylan by the elbow and pulling him along. "You know what women love? ZZ Top said it best...A sharp-dressed man. Trust me, Winona will love seeing you in a different light."

Raylan rolls his eyes, but stops resisting.

In the store, Dan waves the eager salesman away and Raylan stands, arms crossed over his chest, watching as his boss peruses the racks, pulling out several shirts, jackets, and ties. "What size pants do you wear? About a 34?" He grabs two pair of pants from another rack and leads the way to the dressing rooms in the back.

"This jacket is blue and this shirt is another blue. Blue on blue doesn't go together, do they?"

"Trust me," Dan says again.

Raylan exits the dressing room to find Dan holding two ties and several pairs of dark blue socks.

"Ya wanna pick out my underwear, too?"

This one," he says, ignoring Raylan and putting the tie up against the jacket. "It compliments the blues and pulls in the gray of the pants."

"How much is all this gonna cost," Raylan grumbles. "I still gotta pay for dinner, and Majorca ain't cheap."

Dan motions to the hovering salesman. "Can you set my friend here up with a discount?"

"Certainly, Chief Grant. Will Thirty-five percent be acceptable?"

"That should do it." Dan lays a hand on the man's shoulder. "Thanks, Leon."

Even after the discount, Raylan's new ensemble cost more than he'd spent on clothing in the last year. Still, glancing at his reflection in the shop window as they exited, he had to admit he looked – different. He ran a hand over his hair and put the hat back on and felt a bit more like himself.

"About the hat."

"I'm not givin' up my hat," He says firmly. "She likes my hat."

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

Winona turns this way and that in front of the mirror. No. Not this one either. She tugs the red dress off over her head and tosses it into the growing pile on the bed. Standing in her bra and panties, she stares at the row of dresses hanging in the walk-in closet of the bedroom she once shared with Richard. Raylan will be here in less than an hour and she still has to get dressed and drop Willa off at her mother's, at least a twenty-minute round trip, and that's with no traffic. Maybe she should call Mama and have her pick Willa up.

She slides the hangers along the bar, rejecting one possibility after another. _Just pick something. Raylan will probably wear that same old brown jacket he's had since Glynco._ Glynco. Hmmm. Where is that black lace dress she bought for that cocktail party when the Vice President came in on a campaign stop? She's sure she didn't get rid of it. A dark blue hanging bag at the back of the closet catches her eye. Is that where she put it? Will it even fit?

Laying the bag on the bed she slowly draws down the zipper. The dress is there, still in its plastic dry-cleaning bag. She rips off the plastic and holds the dress up to herself in the mirror. It _looks_ like it might still fit. She tugs it on over her head and sucks in her breath to zip it up along the side. It's a little tight in the boobs, but if she takes off her bra...yes! The dress hugs her waist and the skirt flares a little, showing off her slim, tan legs. She slips her feet into her best black pumps

Looking in the mirror, she runs her hands over the lace, smoothing it. They'd had a fight over the dress. It was expensive – too much for their tight budget at the time. Raylan thought it was impractical to spend that much on a dress she would only wear once. But when she put it on...well, it hadn't stayed on long. They had been a little late to the reception.

"Not bad," she says aloud to her reflection. She pulls her hair up with one hand and turns her head, then lets it down, frowning.

"Mama! You're so pretty!" Willa comes rushing into the bedroom, her backpack full of books and toys to take to her grandma's.

"Up or down?" Winona says, showing her possible hairstyles to her daughter. The little girl steps back, considering, her look so serious that Winona laughs.

"Up." Willa says.

"Okay." Winona gives her hair a twist and sticks in a few pins to hold it. "Pick me out some earrings."

Willa eagerly climbs up on the stool and opens the off-limits jewelry box. She lifts several pairs, holding them up and shaking her head, rejecting them. Winona watches. She sees so much of Raylan in Willa, but in this moment, she's aware of herself in her daughter. She swallows the lump in her throat. There's no time to redo her make-up.

"These." Willa holds up a pair of dangly silver earrings.

"Perfect," Winona says, snatching them and slipping the hooks into her ears. She swings her head and turns to her little girl. "Am I ready?"

"Yep," Willa says, hopping down off the stool. Winona watches her bounce out of the room.

"I hope you're right," she says to herself.


	20. Chapter 20

"Hey," Raylan says when she picks up the phone. "I'm stuck in traffic. There's a huge accident on I-90. Life-flight just went over. They're makin' us get off at the next exit, so I'll have to take the back way."

"If you had GPS..."

"I don't need GPS. We'll make our reservation, don't worry." He presses harder on the accelerator and pulls onto the exit ramp, almost rear-ending the car in front of him. "Dammit" He reaches up and loosens the tie, then runs a hand through his hair.

A Miami police officer is directing traffic at the bottom of the ramp, signaling Raylan to turn left. The way to Winona's is to the right and he shakes his head at the cop, hooking his thumb to the right. The overweight man shakes his head, angrily waving the other way and the car behind Raylan honks. He guns the engine and makes his right hand turn, glancing in the rearview at the furious cop screaming at him. At the next street, Raylan makes another right and continues weaving his way down the side streets to the next thoroughfare that will take him to Winona's development.

Pulling up in front of the house, he straightens his tie and brushes crumbs from Richardson's lunch off the passenger seat.

The door opens and his breath catches in his throat. "Wow," he manages as he takes the porch steps two at a time.

She smiles. "I'll take that as a compliment." She looks him up and down, clearly taking in Dan's wardrobe makeover. "Not bad yourself, Cowboy."

"You ready?"

"Let's go." She slips a sparkly shawl over one arm and grabs her clutch from the table.

Walking around to the passenger side, he opens the door for her.

"Why, thank you," she says, giving him another smile and a nice view of cleavage as she dips, slipping into the seat. He recognizes that dress.

"That's the dress that almost gave Dick Cheney another heart attack, isn't it?" He says, sliding into his own seat and grinning at her.

Her hands flutter, then smooth out the skirt. "You remember?"

"Yup. Kinda hard to forget that dress. Skinner was so pissed that I was late to that reception he made me supervise the newbies pickin' up all the spent shells from the range for a week."

She laughs. "So that's why you were so late getting home. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I dunno." He shrugs.

"I wasn't sure it would still fit," she says, sliding her gaze to gauge his reaction.

"It fits just fine."

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

"More Sangria?" The waiter holds the pitcher of ruby liquid over Winona's glass.

"Yes, please," she says, smiling up at him, ignoring Raylan's raised eyebrow. She takes a sip and licks her lips. "Ummmm."

Raylan drinks his whiskey and watches her. "You really like that stuff, don'tcha?"

"It's divine. You really ought to try it."

He swirls the amber liquid in the glass. "I'll stick with my usual, thanks." He says, smiling.

He has to admit, the place has lived up to its reputation so far. Usually he hates modern décor, but the dining area is surprisingly warm and inviting, despite the floor-to-ceiling windows looking out onto South Beach. The lighting is low and the light from scattered oil candles bounces off the glass creating intriguing shadows everywhere.

The food has been fantastic so far. The seafood stuffed pepper appetizer they shared was delicious and the service is just right. Their waiter isn't hovering, but he seems to magically appear just when they are ready for the next course. Now, as if on cue, a young man approaches with their dinners, their waiter at his side.

"Filet of Sole," he announces, lifting the lid. He deftly removes the bones in one piece and places the dish in front of Winona.

"It smells wonderful!"

"And for the gentleman, the filet mignon with mushroom sauce."

"Thank you."

He picks up Raylan's empty glass. "Another whiskey?"

"Please."

The waiter disappears and Winona dips her fork into the fish and takes a bite, closing her eyes.

Raylan watches her until her eyes slowly open.

"What?"

"That must be good."

"It's delicious. How's yours?"

"Haven't had any yet. Too busy watching you."

She flushes and spears another bite as he slices into his steak.

They eat in silence, each stealing an occasional glance at the other in the candlelight. His steak is perfectly done and the sauce is interesting, although he would've preferred A-1. Winona's fish must be as delicious as she claims, because he can't recall seeing her eat with such enthusiasm for a long time.

"I thought you wanted to talk," Raylan says finally, finishing the last bite of his steak. "Didn't you say something about dinner and _conversation_?" He picks up his glass, raising an eyebrow at her as he lifts it to his lips.

Winona pushes her empty plate away and leans one elbow on the table, resting her chin in her hand. Her hair is a halo around her face and those familiar blue eyes flash. "So, what do you think of the mayor's chances of re-election?"

Raylan lets out a low chuckle. "Crime rate's down." He shrugs. "Tourism is up. So, pretty good, I'd guess." He takes another swallow of whiskey. "My turn."

"Shoot, Cowboy," she says with a smile.

"Do you really like kale that much, or are you just pretendin' to?"

A laugh bubbles out of her. "It's not that bad once you get used to it."

"Yeah," he says. "It kinda is."

Winona's nose wrinkles and she leans towards him. "Shhhh," she whispers. "Don't tell Willa."

"Your secret is safe with me."

The waiter returns and they forgo dessert. "Let's walk off dinner and see if we can find some ice cream," Winona suggests.

"You know me well."

"I do." There's a cool breeze coming off the ocean, and she wraps the shawl around her shoulders and slips her hand into his as they exit the restaurant and walk along the wide sidewalk.

"Here," she says, pointing to a sign.

" _Frieze_?" Raylan says, skeptically. "Do they have vanilla?"

"I'm going to get you out of your comfort zone, Cowboy." She tugs on his hand and he follows her inside.

"Ooooh. Look at all the different flavors." She points. "Key Lime! Or maybe coconut."

"Hey! They _do_ have vanilla."

She looks up. "Seriously, Raylan? This is a date. Do you want me to think you're boring?"

He slips an arm around her waist and pulls her in, dipping his head to hers. "You know damn well I ain't boring."

"Prove it." She puts a palm to his chest and meets his gaze, eyes twinkling. "Let me pick. You aren't afraid of a little something different are you?"

"Fine." He lets her go and shoves his hands in his pockets. "You pick." He looks at the case. "They don't have kale-flavored ice cream, do they?"

"I wouldn't do that to you. Why don't you get us a table, and I'll order." She points to the outdoor courtyard.

"Alright," he says, reluctantly.

She joins him a few moments later, setting down two cardboard containers with plastic spoons sticking out. "I got coconut." She pops a spoonful into her mouth.

He peers at his own. "And I got..."

"Just try it, Raylan."

He digs the spoon in and takes a tentative lick. "Not bad. What is it?"

"Try a whole spoonful and see if you can tell."

"Maple syrup?" He takes another bite. "Some kinda nuts...and something else I can't put my finger on."

She grins at him. "Think outside the box."

"What's that s'posed to mean?" He scowls, taking another bite.

"Something you wouldn't expect in ice-cream." She swirls her spoon around and licks the ice cream off.

"I can't concentrate with you doin' that."

"What?" She giggles and feigns innocence, licking the spoon again.

Raylan lowers his gaze and concentrates on his dessert. "Coffee?"

Winona shakes her head.

"Caramel?"

"Try again."

"Bourbon?" He says finally. "Is there bourbon in this ice cream?"

"Ding! Ding! Ding! We have a winner. It's called Jack's Maple Walnut."

"Pretty good," he admits

"See?"

"Not as good as vanilla but..."

He gets an eye-roll in reply.

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

"So," he says, opening the car door and stepping back for Winona to slide in. "How'd the first date go? Am I gonna get lucky?"

"We'll see." She looks straight ahead, but he sees the smile curving her mouth.

He gets in on his side and buckles up, slipping his phone from his pocket and putting it in the cup-holder.

"I'd better check mine," Winona says. "Mama might have called." Her brow wrinkles. "That's odd."

"What?"

"I've got four missed calls and two messages and I don't recognize the numbers." She pushes voicemail and holds the phone to her ear. Her face goes white.

"What?" He repeats, more urgently.

"It's the State Police. Richard's been in an accident. I must still be listed as his emergency contact. I have to call this guy back." She fumbles with the phone and Raylan lays a hand on hers.

"What's the second voicemail?"

"Oh! I don't know." She listens again. "Miami University Hospital," she says. "I guess I'd better call there first."

She messes up the number twice, but finally gets through. After identifying herself, she says "Yes." then "No." and finally. "I understand. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"What's goin' on?" Raylan keeps his voice soft, seeing the shock on her face.

"Richard is in surgery." She shakes her head and fumbles in her purse for a tissue. "Tommy is there, too."

"Where's his grandfather?"

"I don't know, Raylan!" She dabs at her eyes with the tissue, trying not to mess up her make-up. "Can we just go to the hospital?"

"Lemme see what I can find out." He picks up his phone and calls a Miami cop he knows, asking him about any injury accidents in the past few hours. He waits and listens, thanks him, and hangs up the phone.

"Well, if Carson was with him, he might not have made it. The only injury accident is the one that made me late to pick you up. Two fatalities, one life-flighted out, that must've been Richard. All the rest were minor injuries, so Tommy is probably fine."

"Carson might be fine, too."

"Maybe." He sighs and shifts the car into drive. This is not how he pictured their evening playing out.

"You'll stay with me, won't you?" She turns to him, her eyes wide.

"Whadda ya think I'm gonna do? Drop you off and leave?"

She snaps back. "I never know with you."

Another angry retort is on his lips but somehow he musters up the self-control to swallow it. Maybe he _is_ changing after all.

"Hey," he says, taking her hand. "I ain't gonna leave you. We're in this together now, right?"

She hears the hint of insecurity in his question and squeezes his hand in response, hoping that's enough to reassure him.


	21. Chapter 21

I apologize for the long delay. Lots of stuff going on, including computer problems. I DO plan on wrapping this story up SOON.


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